Jethro's Love
by Citation-2
Summary: AU. Sequel to 'Gunny's Whore'. When Gibbs is tortured by Paloma Reynosa, it will be up to Tony to pick up the pieces and deal with Gibbs' wounds, both physical and emotional. How will they cope when Paloma returns? TIBBS SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

All right, the poll I held last week about which sequel you readers wanted to read first had a clear winner!

So it is with great pleasure I start posting this story, which I consider, along with "Gunny's Whore" my favorite NCIS story and one of my best works ever.

It was a hard story to write because I don't like to write about pain and suffering.

However, when I heard Paloma Reynosa mention torture in "Rule 51", I started wondering what could have happened had she decided to do it to Gibbs.

There was a lot of potential for a hurt/comfort story and frankly I'm surprised no other author (at least among the Tibbs-sters) used it.

**WARNING: this story contains references to torture and violence, but they aren't overtly graphic.**

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><p><strong>Jethro's Love<strong>

**By **

**Gunnery Sergeant**

_Sequel to "Gunny's Whore"_

_This story assumes that you have seen "Borderland", "Patriot Down", "Rule Fifty-One" and "The Spider And The Fly". These episodes happened in this AU exactly as they were depicted on screen, but for the plot changes I produced with the premise of this story (and, of course, with "Gunny's Whore")._

_Thanks to **Finlaure**, my wonderful friend and betareader!_

**Prologue**

**Somewhere near Baja, Mexico, mid-May 2010**

The sight of what he had believed to be Mike Franks' mutilated body and the anguish caused by the awareness his old mentor had died because of him, just like Lara Macy, were some of the reasons J.P. Dean had been able to catch Leroy Jethro Gibbs unaware and press a gun against him before he could react.

Then, the news the corpse he had been staring at wasn't Mike's but Colonel Bell's, and thus the need to discover who was behind all of it, had stopped the NCIS agent from trying to overpower the other man.

Now, a few hours later after being knocked unconscious by a blow to his head, Gibbs stared at his surroundings as he waited for his fate to be decided, for there was little else he could do, weapon-less and surrounded by armed men as he was.

The villa where he was looked like an oasis in the desert. It was beautiful, but some of that beauty was lost to him, for he knew what had paid for it: drug money.

As for the woman serving him a glass of scotch, it didn't take a genius to guess who she was. McGee had told him in passing about his and Abby's encounter with the Reynosa cartel while they were in Mexico, and how a woman had given a shell case to them, the brass Gibbs had left on the ridge as signature after killing Pedro Hernandez and wondered how it had ended in Abby's hand.

"You know who I am?" she asked.

"Paloma Reynosa. Head of the Reynosa cartel," Gibbs answered, seeing no point in denying it.

"What else do you know?"

"That the drug trade is recession-proof," he commented sarcastic and trying to guess what the hell she wanted.

"Tennessee Williams said: 'We are all sentenced to solitary confinement inside our own skins for life.'" Reynosa said, looking at the landscape around her. "Surrounded by men with guns, I think of this often. Beautiful, sad, but frank. Do you consider yourself a frank man?"

Gibbs didn't see the point to answer, so he didn't. He wasn't there to comment poetry.

"He also said all cruel people describe themselves as paragons of frankness. I would expect nothing less from the man who murdered my father," Paloma completed, staring hard at him.

Everything clicked in place. Now Gibbs knew why he and the people he cared for had been targeted. He also had a brutal reminder of why revenge was seldom a good idea. Because revenge breeds revenge, even twenty years later.

Gibbs never really regretted killing Pedro Hernandez. To him, the man got what he deserved, not only for what he did to Shannon and Kelly, but also to the NIS agent who died with them, and to the Marine whose murder his wife had witnessed.

However, sometimes, when he had to arrest people for having done the same thing he did, Gibbs found himself thinking that maybe, had he not let his pain and anger obfuscate his common sense, he could have dealt with Hernandez in a different way. Maybe, as the federal agent he had later become, he could have found a way to ensure justice for his girls and the other victims.

Sometime the awareness of what a kind of hypocrite he was when he accused people of being murderers was almost overwhelming, but he then remembered all the good he had done since that one mistake. He was a good agent, he had saved lives, and if it probably would never atone for what he did, he was determinate to keep doing his job until NCIS regulations about mandatory retirement would make him stop.

"I see you choose your words carefully, Agent Gibbs," Paloma Reynosa said, commenting his silence. "That is good. Your life depends on them."

"I don't usually drink scotch," he just said, gulping down the brown liquid.

His host smirked and sat down at the table as he looked at her intently, wondering what she was up to. If she wanted revenge, why hadn't she ordered Dean to shoot him? Or did she want do it herself?

"You solve crimes for a living," Reynosa began, as if she was discussing the weather, but her keen and unsettling eyes never stopped to observe him. Gibbs could only imagine what she was feeling at looking at her father's killer after so much time. "Is there such a thing as a perfect murder?"

"I've never seen one," he answered, sincere.

"But how would it work?"

"It's not the method, it's the victim," he explained, and added, but only in his mind. _And __even __so __everything __can __completely __go __wrong__…__your __father__'__s __death __is __a __perfect __example __of __it_.

"Kill someone no one will miss," Reynosa suggested.

Gibbs smirked and replied softly, "You don't need tips on how to kill me."

The young woman shook her head. "I am not opposed to killing when it suits my needs. That is part of my business. The late Colonel Bell wanted to prove he was a better man than you. He and his men made for a useful ally, but they were a means to an end. Namely you."

"I don't know what you're after, but you might as well put a bullet in my head right now, because you're not gonna get anything," Gibbs answered. His mind went to his father and Tony, and to the pain his death would cause them, but he was foremost a federal agent, a man who had always put his country and his duty to it above all, and that would do everything to ensure the US woulldn't be damaged in any way. He would never become a tool for Reynosa.

"I don't want to kill you," Paloma continued with that deceptively soft tone of hers. "I want to make you suffer as you made me suffer." Her face transformed in a mask of pure hate. "By the time I am done with you, you will regret ever being born, Agent Gibbs."

She nodded with her head and Dean stepped forward along with two other armed men. "Take him down to my playroom...I will join you soon."

Dean nodded and seized Gibbs by the arms and pulled him out of the chair, dragging him away.

"Now we will see how tough you are, Marine...If I were you, I would begin to pray your heart fails you soon..." he said with a malicious tone that made Gibbs shiver as for the first time in a long time, he felt fear crept along his body. Fear for himself and not for his people. Fear he would never see Tony again...

He could only imagine what Reynosa in had in store for him and with the little faith left inside him after Shannon and Kelly's death, he turned his eyes toward the sky and asked God to help him and to look after Tony and his father in case he should die under Paloma's tortures.

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So, here we go...it has started. Let me know what you think and remember reviews make me update faster!


	2. Chapter 2

**It looks like I'm always on hurry these days. I'm sorry I'm not able to reply to every review, but at least I'm able to post chapters. Thank you so much for your kind words about the previous part. I hope you'll like this one too.**

**I**

Anthony DiNozzo, formerly DC's most famous male 'Madam' was used to feeling people's eyes follow him as he walked into a room. Most of the time those gazes are filled with prurient curiosity, lust or revulsion.

This time instead, they were full of stupor. As he stepped into the NCIS QH squad room and walked toward the central area, he knew very well what all the agents looking at him were thinking, "What is he doing here?"

Should they be able to read his mind, they would discover Tony was there because he was worried sick about his lover, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the head of the agency most successful Major Crime Response Team.

Twelve days ago Jethro had left a message on his voice-mail to cancel their planned dinner-with-basketball-game, and Tony hadn't heard from him since then. In the beginning, he had thought the older man had been called out of town for something connected to his job, so he had waited for Jethro to call when he was back.

But early that morning, while was having breakfast in an Italian-style bar in Georgetown, he had spotted one of Jethro's agents, the gorgeous Israeli Ziva David, walking with the equally beautiful Abigail Sciuto, the NCIS forensic expert—and Abby, as Jethro called her, had been crying. Tears had streaked along her cheeks and it had seemed like nothing her companion was saying was able to comfort her.

Tony had found himself wondering what could be the cause of her sadness and grief and suddenly an idea had struck him. Why wasn't Jethro there to console Abby? He knew his lover and the Goth woman had a very strong bond, Jethro had told him so. So why Abby was crying in Ziva's arms? And why was Ziva there instead of being with Jethro? Shouldn't she be with him and the rest of the team if they had been sent out to investigate something out of town?

A shiver of fear had run along his spine as a terrible thought crossed his mind. What if Abby was crying because of Jethro? What if something bad had happened to him?

Once the idea took hold of his mind, Tony wasn't able to banish it. He knew that since their relationship was a secret, no one at NCIS would ever even think to alert him had something happened to Jethro.

The cappuccino now weighting like lead on his stomach, Tony had immediately called one of his many contacts in town, asking him to check if Jethro had been admitted in some hospital in the past twelve days. Then he had set down to wait, as out in the street, Ziva and Abby had walked away, both with their heads bowed.

Two hours later Tony decided he couldn't wait a moment more. So he had taken a cab to the Navy Yard and there he was, stepping into the NCIS squad room, determined to discover where Jethro was without revealing his real feelings for the older man.

So he put on his carefree, suave mask and approached the desks of the MCRT. Jethro's was empty, while the others were occupied by his team members—and all of them sported a grim, beaten down expression.

Something was definitively wrong and Tony's heart twisted in his chest.

Stan Burley, the man Tony had once felt jealous of, stood up and voiced what every agent in the room was probably thinking, "Mr. DiNozzo, what a surprise. What can I do for you?"

"I would like to talk with Agent Gibbs," he answered calmly, looking around the squad room, as if he was trying to locate the man.

"Agent Gibbs isn't here," Burley answered and Tony didn't miss the quick look the agent exchanged with his team mates.

"When will he be back?" Tony pressed, holding tight to the hope Jethro away because of his job, maybe at some kind of interagency meeting or conference.

"We don't know," someone replied from behind Tony's back. He turned around and was taken aback by how tired and pale Ziva was. He hadn't noticed it earlier that morning; otherwise he wouldn't have waited so long to come to NCIS.

He swallowed hard and asked, "Did something happen to him?"

He saw Burley and Ziva exchange another look and understood they were going to give some official reply, not the truth. So he interjected quickly, "Please tell me the truth. Jethro is a good friend and I'm worried by his sudden disappearance."

Agent McGee, the third member of team Gibbs, stepped closer to them and said surprised, "You are friends?"

"Yes, Agent McGee, we are." Tony confirmed. _We __are __friends __and __so __much __more__… "_We stayed in contact after Jethro saved my life, and discovered we get along well. Last time I heard from him he left a message on my voice mail to cancel a planned dinner, twelve days ago. I thought it was because he had to leave because of his job, but now, looking at your faces, I think something wrong happened to him, and I would like to know what it is."

The three agents looked at each other, and then Ziva nodded and spoke, "We don't know what happened to Gibbs. Twelve days ago he rushed out of this building and we hadn't heard from him since then. We know he took a plane for Mexico and then…disappeared."

Tony nodded slowly. "Why did he go in Mexico? Do you know?"

"We believe he went there to help Mike Franks, his old mentor here at NCIS. We know Franks' house near Baja was burned down and there was a gunfight nearby, but nothing else. He has disappeared and so far the Mexican authorities have not been able to locate him or Gibbs," McGee answered.

"I see," Tony said slowly, as he tried to control his reactions. He had to react as a very concerned friend, not a distraught man who had just been told the man he loved had disappeared in one of the most dangerous countries of the world. Tony wasn't a federal agent, but he watched the TV news and the reports about the people killed in Mexico because of the war between the drug cartels were an everyday occurrence.

He took a deep breath and added, "Thank you for telling me what happened." He took his wallet out of his pocket and retrieved one of his cards. "Could you please call me should you get any news from Jethro? I would really appreciate it."

Stan Burley nodded, "Yes, of course," and picked the card. "And now, Mr. DiNozzo, I think it would be best if you left. I'm afraid your presence here is a bit distracting for the other agents, whom are too busy trying to listen to our conversation to do their job."

"I understand," Tony replied with a sad smile as he shook hands with the three agents. "Thank you for your time. I'll now leave you to your job."

Speaking so, he turned on his heels and walked away, his heart far heavier than it had been when he had arrived.

_Where __are __you, __Jethro?_ Tony wondered as stepped into the elevator. _Please __be __safe. __I __cannot __lose __you __again, __not __after __having __just __found __you. __Please __God, __look __after __him__…__Please._

**-x-**

Darkness.

It surrounded him like a living thing, suffocating and crawling along is body like the cockroaches he had seen when he had first been dragged in this room.

Hurt.

There wasn't a single part of him that didn't ache: his ribs, his arms, his left hand, his face, his...

Hunger.

He licked his lips, and tasted the salt left there by his tears.

Fatigue.

He was exhausted; his starving body hung from chains fixed to the ceiling, his weak legs barely able to hold him upright.

Cold.

_Who __would __have __imagined __it __could __be __so __damp __in __an __underground __cell __in __the __arid __Mexican __countryside?_ He thought, his naked body shivering in the darkness.

Pain.

For how much Tony and his father, and Abby, and Ducky, and Stan and Tim, and Ziva had to be suffering right now. The agony of not knowing where he was, the inability to do anything to help...all of them had to be eating at them.

Stubbornness.

He simply couldn't let go. Surrender wasn't in him. He hadn't let go after Shannon and Kelly had died...he wouldn't let go now. He would fight till the end, until there wasn't any blood in his veins or breath in his lungs.

Comfort.

In his memories of better times...

_Talking with Shannon at the train station. Their first kiss. Getting down on his knee as he asked her to marry his and the joy he felt when she said 'yes'. Their fumbling yet perfect wedding night. The day Shannon had said he would be a father. Kelly's birth. Her first step. The first time she had called him daddy. Her shining eyes when he put her on a pony...her eyes brimming with tears as she begged him not to leave her… "Don't go, Daddy, don't go..."_

No, get away from them. Good memories... he needed good memories.

_Meeting Tony in Rick's hotel. Watching him dance on the Sensual Delights stage and knowing they would soon have their own private dance in the bedroom. Sleeping in a park, with the kid warm in his arms, his soft hair tickling his chin. Meeting again in the NCIS interrogation room. Their dinners together. Their weekend at Tony's Virginia Beach resort. The tattoo. Their confession of love. The wonderful, happy months that had followed. The projects for a future together-_

Light.

No, not the light. She is back, she is back...no, go away, go.

Her voice.

"Nice to see are finally awake, Agent Gibbs..."

Agony.

A savage kick to his exposed groin. Pain blazing along his nerves as he struggled to prevent himself from crying out.

Her malicious laughter and the metallic glint of a blade.

_No more, please, no more... _

A stab.

He screamed.

He screamed until the darkness, this time benign, enveloped him again and the pain ceased.

At least for the moment.

At least until he woke up and the torture would begin again.

How much abuse could a man's body and mind bear before it was too much?

**-x-**

Gibbs regained awareness little by little, all the while wishing he could stay unconscious.

Pain, both physical and mental ceased when he was unconscious and sometimes, when he was lucky, he dreamed.

Shannon, Kelly, Tony: he had seen all of them in his dreams. In his dreams, they had dried his tears, washed his wounds, and offered him water to soothe his throat, raw with screaming.

But try as he might, he couldn't stop the inevitable.

Gibbs opened his eyes and was almost blinded by the light. He closed them again as his exhausted mind tried to find an explanation.

Where he was?

He was no longer hanging from chains, but lying down.

Had he been rescued? Was the light the cold, white one of a hospital room?

He opened his eyes again and this time was able to take a look around.

He wasn't at the hospital. He wasn't even in a room. He was outside, lying on the ground surrounded by bushes and rocks.

A shadow fell across his face as someone knelt by his side.

"I'm done with you, Gibbs," Paloma Reynosa said, running her manicured finger along his aching jaw. "It's getting dangerous to hold you. The police are searching all the villas to find you for you, and my _hermano _cannot stop it. I don't want them to find you in my house, so I will leave you to rot here, where the sun and the wild dogs will finish my job. But before I go," she grabbed his jaw hard, making him face her. "Know that should you survive, I will kill everyone you ever met— your co-workers, your friends, your ex mother-in –law. I even promise to personally visit Pennsylvania and shoot your father in the head." Her fingers tightened, bruising the already discolored skin, "So die, Gibbs. _Die_."

Reynosa stood up and walked away. Gibbs followed her with his heavy eyes, watching her board a truck and disappear in a cloud of dust.

The sun beat down on him remembering him both of Kuwait and of the day he had pulled the trigger and killed Pedro Hernandez.

It was probably fitting he would die out here, in the deserted Mexican countryside.

He just hoped the end would come quickly, before someone could find him.

So all the people he loved would be safe.

Gibbs tilted his neck to face the sky and smiled as he recognized Shannon and Kelly's faces in the shape of the clouds over his head.

Then he closed his eyes and fainted.

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This was a very hard chapter to write. As I said, I hate violence and I abhor torture. However, it was important for the rest of the story to show at least a bit of what Gibbs suffered. I couldn't leave it just to your imagination, although I tried to be as 'delicate' as possible. Please let me know what you think and remember that reviews make me update faster.

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PS Just to make it clear: in the end, Gibbs is not 'giving up', but in his shocked state he is thinking that if he dies, his loved ones will be safe. It is basically the same thought that - as I see it - pushed him to taunt Alejandro in "Rule 51" what he shouted to the Mexican guy to shoot him. Gibbs doesn't want to die, but is ready to die if it will ensure his loved ones' safety.


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again, thank you so much for the reviews. I'm glad the previous chapter worked well and wasn't "too much". Now, let's move to something lighter...****Enjoy!**

**II**

Despite having just fallen asleep after a night spent tossing and turning, Tony snapped wide awake when his cell phone chirped.

He switched on the bedside table lamp and looked at the clock. It was only 0630. Who was calling at that hour? Could it be the phone call he had been hoping for the past twenty-two days, since he had learned Jethro had disappeared?

Tony reached out with his hand, picked the cell phone and his heart sped up when saw a number he didn't recognize on the caller ID. Only a few people had access to this number, and he had all their numbers memorized. Which left only one person...

"DiNozzo," he answered, opening the phone.

"Mr. DiNozzo, Agent Burley here. Sorry if I woke you up, but I've news about Gibbs."

"Tell me. Please."

"The Mexican Police found him."

_Thank __you, __God_. Tony thought before he asked, "Is he all right?"

There was a long silent pause, and then Burley murmured, "He has been tortured."

Tony closed his eyes and forced himself to speak beyond the lump constricting his throat, "Will he be OK? Where he is? Still in Mexico?"

"Nope, he's here. At Bethesda Naval Hospital. As far as I know, a Mexican farmer found Gibbs five days ago, unconscious in the countryside where someone had dumped him. He was more dead than alive and the farmer took him to the closest hospital. Gibbs was treated there until he regained consciousness and told the doctors his name. So they contacted the US Department of State and since he was deemed able to fly, a plane was sent to pick him up. He arrived at Bethesda around midnight."

_Why __didn__'__t __you __call __me __then?_ Tony thought but didn't say. _You __would __have __spared __me __five __long __hours __of __tossing __and __turning._"Can I see him?"

"If the doctors allow it and he wants to…"

Tony nodded. "Okay." A deep breath. "Thank you for calling me, Agent Burley. I really appreciate that."

"You're welcome, Mr. DiNozzo. Now forgive me, but I must prepare to go to work."

"Of course. Have a good day."

The call ended and Tony put down the phone as he stared blindly in front of him.

Jethro had been tortured and then dumped in the countryside like a piece of trash. Who was the bastard that had done it to him?

Images of torture scenes seen in various movies flashed in front of his eyes and he was caught by a bout of nausea as he imagined Jethro as the victim of those cruel, sadistic practices.

But at least Jethro was alive and if the Mexican doctors had deemed him fit enough to fly, it meant his conditions were not extremely serious…which was very good news.

Tony took a deep breath to calm down and then stood up, reaching for his clothes. Bethesda Naval Hospital was only a few blocks away from his apartment, and there was no way he could return to bed knowing Jethro was so close. He had to see his lover as soon as possible.

**-x-**

Forty-five minutes later Tony looked in desperation and exasperation at the nurse standing like an armed sentry behind the reception desk of the hospital.

He had been trying to convince her to let him see Jethro for the past twenty minutes, but without any luck. He had first been charming and suave, then he had dropped his mask and showed her how anxious and worried he was, but it had been useless. The woman hadn't budged. Agent Gibbs was under protection detail and until Tony's name was added to the short list of people allowed to see him, there was no way the nurse would let him walk past her station.

Tony was about to call Agent Burley in the hope he could convince the woman to let him pass, when a smooth, cultured voice by his side exclaimed, "Mr. DiNozzo is a good friend of Agent Gibbs, Christina. Let him pass. I will vouch for him."

Tony whirled around and saw the voice belonged to a man he had never seen before. He was shorter than him, with faded blond hair and keen blue eyes hidden by glasses. He was about ten years older than Jethro and was wearing a suit, complete with a bow tie.

"Are you sure, Doctor Mallard?" the stern nurse asked.

"Very sure," the man added with a smile.

"Then I'll trust your judgement," the nurse answered, smiling back. She faced Tony and added, "You can go in now, Mr. DiNozzo. Tell Agent Gibbs 'Hello' on my behalf."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise as Dr. Mallard took him by the arm and led him toward a corridor.

"You must understand Nurse Watson, Mr. DiNozzo. Not only is she very scrupulous, but she is very fond of Jethro too. He saved her son's life a couple of years ago," the older man said, as they reached a closed door guarded by two armed men.

Dr. Mallard nodded to them and pushed the door open, which lead to another short corridor. Once inside, Tony stopped, causing the older man to do the same.

The doctor raised his head to look at him interrogatively and Tony smiled down at him. "I wanted to thank you, Dr. Mallard, for allowing me to see Jethro."

The older man smiled. "Call me Ducky, please. I think it will be good for Jethro to see you."

Tony frowned, not understanding. "How…?"

"Jethro and I've been good friends for several years, Mr. DiNozzo. I know him quite well, and in the past four months I have seen a change in him. He's more serene, smiles more and he's much more inclined to leave the office at a reasonable time. I had no idea of what or, more correctly, of who had prompted this change in him, but then I was told of your visit to the Navy Yard and I understood."

"Doctor…" Tony murmured, surprised by the older man's calm acceptance of his relationship with Gibbs.

"Ducky."

"Ducky, I don't know what to say."

"There is nothing to say. Your relationship with Jethro is a private matter between you two. As for the rest, I'm old enough to know that things are seldom just black or white, and that happiness and love must be seized when they pass by, no matter the form in which they come. And now, Anthony...may I call you so? Yes? Good. And now, let's go see Jethro."

"One moment more, Ducky," Tony stopped his companion with a hand on his arm. "How is he?"

"I won't lie to you, dear boy. Jethro is in bad shape. He was whipped, and savagely beaten. His left hand is broken as well as three of his ribs, and he has a cracked cheekbone. His body is covered by knife cuts and cigar burns. His… genitals…are in a bad shape too."

"My God," Tony whispered, closing his eyes briefly to stop his tears from spilling.

"Then he was dropped to die in the arid Mexican countryside, but blessedly he was found before starvation, dehydration or infections could complete his torturers' job."

"Will he recover?" Tony asked when he was again able to speak.

Ducky took a deep breath before answering. "Physically, he should make a complete recovery, although it's too early to say how long it will take. Mentally, well, that's harder to say. Jethro is strong, but he has been in his tormenters' hands for almost a month. God only knows what they had done to him beside physical torture. The only thing we can do is to stay near him and help him…" The doctor's voice hesitated, so Tony completed the line.

"If he will allow us to do it."

"Yes," Ducky confirmed with a sad smile. "Jethro isn't used to showing any kind of weakness. He's always the one giving comfort and looking after the others. It won't be easy for him to see the tables turned on him."

Tony nodded grimly. However, a bit of hope had sparkled inside him. Ducky didn't know it, but he had seen Jethro when his lover was at the lowest point of his life, just after Shannon and Kelly had been killed. Back then Jethro had accepted the comfort and care Tony had offered, even if, maybe, he hadn't realized that Tony was going beyond the 'call of duty' when he was with him. Maybe he had thought Tony was only doing his job, and that he treated all of his 'johns' like that. But whatever the case, Jethro had allowed himself to be weak and needy in front of Tony nineteen years before, and even if now the circumstances between them were different, the young man hoped their previous experience would help with the current situation.

"Are you ready to see him?" Ducky asked a few moments later.

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

Together, the two men walked into a well-lit, spacious, bright room and Tony's eyes zeroed on the bed.

Jethro was asleep, lying on his back. His left hand was in a cast and the right side of his face was covered by gauze. There were an IV inserted into his right arm, monitors connected to his heart and sensors to check his blood pressure, but he was breathing easily, without the help of a mask or a nasal cannula.

Taking a step closer, as Ducky stayed by the door, Tony saw how pale and emaciated his lover was. Someone must have shaved off his beard from his bruised jaw, but his hair was long and shaggy.

Tony leaned over the bed and gently, carefully, he took Jethro's right hand in his own, needing some physical contact with his lover.

Jethro's eyes fluttered opened and Tony found himself looking at the blue pools he had been so scared he would never see again.

"Tony..." the older man whispered, his voice rough and low.

Tony smiled, and caressed his lover's hair with his free hand. "Hello, Jethro."

"How...?"

"I was worried after you disappeared, so I went to the Navy Yard and asked where you had gone...and your team told me what had happened..." Tony voice drifted off.

Jethro tilted his head and observed him for a while. "You are thinner. Tired…"

Tony let out a humorless laugh. "Oh, Jethro, these past weeks have been very hard. I was terrified something had happened to you and that I would never see you again."

"I'm sorry…" Jethro whispered, "For worrying you."

Tony's eyes brimmed with tears. Jethro had just spent a hellish month being brutalized and starved, and here he was, apologizing because Tony hadn't been able to eat or sleep properly!

"Aren't apologies a sign of weakness?" he tried to joke, looking down at his lover.

"Not between us."

Tony bent down and kissed him softly on his dry lips, before he whispered, "That's right, Jethro. Because you're not weak, not even now when you might need help. Don't ever forget it, okay?"

"Okay."

They stared at each other in silence for long minutes, until Jethro's eyelids closed and he fell asleep. Only then Tony let go of his hand and stepped away from the bed, walking to the door where Ducky had been patiently waiting.

"Thank you again for letting me seen him, Ducky," Tony said with a voice that didn't sound completely steady to his ears.

"No, thank you, dear Anthony. Seeing you, hearing your voice did Jethro better than any medicine we might give him. Now come, let's leave him to his rest. I could use a cup of tea and a croissant, and I am ready to bet, your stomach needs to be filled too. Jethro was right, you look a bit thin."

Tony nodded with smile, "I'm all for eating breakfast with you, Ducky. But only if you allow me to pay for it."

"That is fine for me. Now, let's go. I know a delightful French style bar that makes the best croissants, but we must be quick, or they will soon be all gone."

Ducky began to walk toward the end of the corridor and after a final, loving look at Jethro, Tony followed him, his steps far lighter they had been on his way in.

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So, Gibbs is safe...but his troubles (and Tony's) aren't over yet...I hope you enjoyed Tony's first meeting with Ducky. Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm quite in hurry and late today, but at least I'm able to post.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews! I really, really appreciate them and your support to this story.**

**And to answer to _I'm waiting for my Booth's_ question, if you look closely, you'll see the Epilogue of "Gunny's Whore" is set on 4th July 2011. **

**"Jethro's Love" is set in May-September 2010; that's why Tony and the team aren't friends...yet.**

**.**

**III**

Gibbs woke up, and for the first time in…how long it had been? His mind felt less fuzzy and confused. The past days, no matter how many had been, had been just a blur.

He had slept most of the time, waking briefly now and then. He remembered seeing and talking with Tony. And then Ducky and Abby, sitting by his side. He remembered gentle hands checking his body and then an unfamiliar voice saying, "You're doing very well, Agent Gibbs. I think it's time to cut off the sedatives."

Oh yes, that was why he felt a bit sharper—and sore. God, he ached everywhere.

_Paloma __has __done __a __thorough __job_, he thought with a smirk. Then his eyes snapped open as a memory flashed in his mind. No, her job hadn't been so thorough. He was still alive. And she had promised to kill everyone he cared for if he survived.

Agitated, Gibbs looked around him and, spotting the button of the buzzer, he reached out with his right hand and pressed it.

A moment later a nurse appeared by his side, "Can I do anything for you, Agent Gibbs?"

"Bring me a phone. I need to talk with Director Vance at once," he said, struggling to sit up.

"Agent Gibbs, don't move so much. Your ribs-"

"The hell with my ribs! Bring me that damn phone! This is a matter of life and death," he shouted and blessedly the woman didn't lose more time. She gave him the phone and stood by in silence as he dialed Leon's private cell phone number.

"_Vance,__"_ a voice immediately answered.

"It's Gibbs. Listen to me, Leon. I need you to put my father, Ducky and Abby under protection. Then alert my team and tell them to be extra alert. Paloma Reynosa threatened to kill everyone I care for if I survived," Gibbs said urgently, his breathing hurried because of his worry and the pain in his chest.

After a moment of silence, _"__It __has __already __been __done, __Gibbs. __You __probably __don__'__t __remember, __but __the __first __words __you __said __when __you __arrived __at __Bethesda __six __days __ago __were:__ '__Put __my __people __under __protection, __they __are __in __danger__'__.__" __Dr. __Mallard __was __present __when __you __said __them, __and __he __reported __them __to __me.__"_

"And you did it?"

"_Of __course, __I __did. __I __don__'__t __make __the __habit __to __ignore __the __plea __of __a __man __who __has __just __been __tortured __almost __to __death. __But __I __tell __you __this, __Gibbs. __As __soon __as __the __doctors __say __you __are __able __to __receive __a __work __related __visit, __you __and __I __will __have __a __long __conversation __about __this __whole __Mexican __mess,__"_ Vance said with more than a hint of steel in his voice.

"Yes, sir. We will."

"_Good. Now I must go, I'm on my way to meeting with the SecNav."_

"Okay, Leon—and thank you."

Gibbs closed the call and handed the phone back to the nurse. Then he allowed her to help him to recline again, which he did with a relieved sigh as the pain in his chest became more bearable.

"Rest now, Agent Gibbs," the nurse ordered. "I will be back with your lunch in an hour or so."

Gibbs nodded and closed his eyes, feeling a bit calmer. He wasn't happy about the situation. The idea his people could be in mortal danger because of what he had done was like a stab in his side and it set him on edge. He wasn't sorry he had survived Reynosa's tortures, but felt responsible for what had happened to Lara Macy, to Mike and his girls, and for what could happen to his father and his team. This was his mess and he should pay the price of his mistakes, not the innocents.

He should be at his desk doing his job to bring down Paloma Reynosa, not lying here in a bed doing nothing.

Gathering his strength, Gibbs pushed away the covers, took the IV out of his wrist and rolled to sitting position with his legs hanging from the side of the bed. Slowly he slid down until his feet touched the floor and he stood up. The room spun around him for a moment and when his balance was fine, he took a cautious step and then another toward the closet at the other side of the room.

Once there, he opened the door, wanting to look if there were any clothes inside. Instead, his attention was caught by his image, reflected by a mirror hanging from the closet door.

Gibbs looked at what was before him, and the face of a stranger looked back. It was similar and yet different to how he had reacted when he had woken up from his second explosion-induced coma and subsequent amnesia, and had discovered he was fifteen years older than he remembered.

His face was pale and gaunt, with dark shadows under his eyes. His cheekbone and jaw were swollen and bruised, his lips cracked. And there was more...around his neck there was the purplish mark left by the garrote Reynosa had used to almost suffocate him. He raised his right hand to touch it and noticed, almost detached, that it was trembling.

Gibbs moved the hospital garb away from his chest and observed the constellation of bruises, half-healed knife wounds and burns there, as an avalanche of uncontrolled memories crashed over him...

_Knives, fists, kicks, burns, he remembered them all. She had used anything that elicited pain and tore screams from his mouth...Wanting to curl up in agony, but unable to do that because of the chains... Standing in his own filth and blood as that woman laughed and inflicted yet another cut, yet another kick, yet another burn..._

The trembling spread from his hands to his whole body and his legs failed him. Gibbs collapsed, but before his knees hit the floor, two strong arms grabbed him beneath his armpits and broke his fall.

"What are you doing up, Agent Gibbs?" a voice asked, but Gibbs barely heard it as he thrashed trying to get free from the arms still surrounding his chest.

He tried to break the hold of the hands imprisoning him, kicking at the floor trying to unbalance his captor, hitting with his left arm, getting more distressed by the moment as his fears of being back in Paloma Reynosa's hands increased until an urgent voice murmured in his ear, "Calm down, Jethro. It's me, Tony. Calm down or you will harm yourself."

"Tony?" Gibbs repeated, uncaring of how shaken he sound.

"Yes, Jethro, it's me." The hold around his chest disappeared and a second later Tony knelt in front of him, his beloved face full of concern. "Stay calm now, Jethro. You are safe. No one is going to hurt you, but Nurse Watson and I are now going to help you back to bed. Is that okay with you?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yes," he croaked.

"Good."

Tony took one of his arms and Nurse Watson the other and the two of them raised him off the floor and carried him back to the bed. Once there, the woman reinserted the IV needle in his right wrist, and then injected something in the tube. In a matter of seconds, Gibbs felt his pounding heart and hurried breath slow down.

Tony bent by his side and gently ran his hand along his now sweaty hair. "Sleep, Jethro," he whispered. "You are safe now; no one will harm you again. Sleep now...sleep..."

And Gibbs did.

**-x-**

When Gibbs woke up again, Tony wasn't there—but Leon Vance was. He was sitting on the chair near his bedside, typing something on his PDA.

"Director?" Gibbs said, his voice rough, and he vaguely wondered when was last time he had some water to moisten his dry throat.

Vance smiled briefly, as he put away his PDA. "Gibbs. How do you feel? Are you ready for our conversation? I've been told you had a crisis yesterday, but I really need to talk to you if you're up to it."

"I am, Leon," Gibbs answered with a stronger voice, as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

Vance moved closer and said, "So, what the hell happened in Mexico?"

Gibbs gathered his thoughts then began to talk. "After I discovered Colonel Bell was after me, I thought Mike Franks might be in danger too. I sent a message to alert him, but wasn't sure he got it in time. I flew there and found his house burned down. There had been gunfight and there were corpses on the beach. I looked for Mike's, and I bent down to examine a beheaded one. J.P. Dean was there, with a gun. He told me the corpse wasn't Mike, but Bell's and then he knocked me out. When I awoke, I was at Paloma Reynosa's bunker villa."

Vance nodded. "Is she who…?" he tilted his head to indicate Gibbs' chest.

"Yes."

"Do you know why? Did she tell you where Mike is?"

"Yes and no."

"Tell me why," Vance pressed.

Gibbs turned to face him, as he considered what to do. "Did you get a copy of Abby's report? The one for the task force?"

"I never saw it," Vance answered looking straight into his eyes. "Decades old cold case in Mexico...that's not really my business, is it?"

Gibbs nodded, understanding what Leon had just said, that he knew what had happened twenty years before and that he didn't care about it.

At the same time, Vance had understood why the Reynosa cartel was out to get Gibbs and his people, so the silver haired man wasn't surprised when the Director said, "I guess you won't be too surprised to know that the Reynosa cartel tried to saddle you with Colonel Bell's murder."

Gibbs arched an eyebrow, "How?"

"Well, two days after your disappearance, Alejandro Rivera informed us Bell had been found dead near Franks' house along with other men. The corpses were sent here for autopsy and the slugs found in Bell matched your SIG. However, Dr. Mallard was quick to point out the fatal injury had been to the head, which had been cut along his hands to hide the real cause of death. Additionally, the serrated pattern found on Bell's neck matched the KA-BAR nick found on Lara Macy's neck, so we had proof Dean had killed both of them."

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah. Paloma told me Bell was only a means to an end. Once she got what he wanted from him, she had him killed."

"Bell committed the mistake of trusting the wrong people…Reynosa, Dean, Rivera…"

"Rivera?" Gibbs asked with a frown. "What about him?"

"Let's say I didn't find him very helpful when I asked his assistance to locate you and Franks. He seemed more interested in getting the ballistic report Miss Sciuto had sent him, but he insisted he never got, than in helping us. So I dug a bit deeper and-"

"He is Paloma's brother, isn't he?" Gibbs interjected, remembering what the woman said when she had dropped him in the desert.

"Yes, he is. How do you know?"

"She said something about her _hermano_ not being able to stop a police inspection…"

"I see." Vance stood up and looked down at Gibbs, his face very serious. "When I first learned you had taken off for Mexico without alerting anyone, I wanted to drag you back and bench you because I'm tired of having to look the other way when I know you're sneaking around behind my back, Gibbs. That doesn't work for me. However, I think that what happened to you was enough of a punishment—and besides it helped us to tie Macy and Bell's murders to Dean and the Reynosa cartel. So you are clean now. But don't you ever dare to pull another stunt like this—and don't ever think to get a personal vendetta against Paloma Reynosa when you get out of here. NCIS will deal with her and her brother. Is that clear?"

"Crystalline," Gibbs said, looking straight at Leon's face, as his respect for the man increased another notch.

"Good. I must go now." Vance reached out with his arm. The two men exchanged a hand shake, and then the NCIS director walked away. He had almost reached the door when he stopped and turned around to face Gibbs again.

"One more thing, Gibbs. Do you want me to put Anthony DiNozzo under protection too?

Gibbs' mouth fell open in shock. "What do you mean, Leon?"

Vance smiled briefly. "I'm not asking, and you aren't telling, Jethro. You just be careful and keep it out of the office."

Unable to speak Gibbs nodded with his head.

"So, do I have to assign an agent to him or not?"

"Yes…please do that, Leon. And thank you." Gibbs answered when he recovered the use of his voice, a small smile blossoming on his lips.

.

As I told you, Gibbs' troubles are far from being over... :( So what you think? Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm VERY late today, but I'm here...**

**Thank you so very, very much for the reviews. A lot of you commented how nice Vance was...I do like the guy, because changed a lot since his first appearances in Season 5. He and Gibbs work well together and they trust each other. That's why I made Vance so accepting.**

**IV**

Tony had been surprised to discover today was July 4th. The holiday had ceased to have any true meaning after his mother had died and his father had sent him to the first of many boarding schools.

Oh, he had celebrated Independence Day with his schoolmates first and frat brothers later, but they hadn't been family. After that, he had been too busy to give more than a passing thought to the festivity. A lot of his clients along the years had been foreigners and they hadn't given a damn about an all-American festivity most of them didn't understand.

They had wanted Tony to cater to their every wish and taste and he had done it without any regrets, although he had never forgotten to add an extra to his performances' standard price, as compensation for having been asked to work during such an important day.

This was actually the first year he had planned to celebrate the day in decades, because he once again had a family to spend it with. He had hoped Jethro and he could have flown to California, to visit Cassie and Rick. Or maybe, if Jethro felt like it, travel up to Stillwater, Pennsylvania, the small town where his lover had been born and where Gibbs' father Jackson still lived.

But all his plans had gone down the drain when Jethro had disappeared. Later, after his lover had been rescued, Tony had been too busy organizing the schedule of the seminars he had to hold as part of his plea deal around the hospital visiting hours, so that he could try to see Jethro at least once a day, to even realize June had gone by and July had already started.

So today, the sight of the red, white and blue decorations in the streets and of families getting together had taken him by surprise. And, as soon as he had realized what day it was, Tony had felt the desire to spend it with the man he loved.

He had immediately taken a cab to the hospital, where he had been very happy to discover that day there wouldn't be any time restriction for the visitors. He could spend the whole day with Jethro, if he wanted, and boy, did he. He wanted it so much.

Now Tony stood in the doorway of Jethro's room, watching as a sunbeam filtering from the window slanted across his sleeping lover's chest. For a fanciful moment Tony thought it seemed as if it reached into the heart underneath, bathing the wounded body in warmth.

Jethro looked peaceful today, such a contrast from the scared, frantic man he had seen two days before. That day he had entered in the room just in time to see his lover's legs fail him. He still didn't know how he had been able to cross the room in time to prevent Jethro from crashing to the floor, but he had. After that Tony had held his lover as the man had tried to get free, thrashing on the floor as panic seized him, his eyes as wild as the cries escaping from his lips.

Tony had felt relieved – and more than a little touched – when the mere sound of his voice had been enough to penetrate the terror crippling Jethro, calming him. He had felt humbled by the trust Jethro had in him, but he hoped to never have to witness another demonstration as heartbreaking as that one.

Tony walked inside the bedroom and observed Jethro. He looked better than the other day. Maybe he was less pale. Or perhaps the shadows under his eyes were no longer so dark. Or maybe some of the bruises had started to fade.

Whatever it was, it was a sign Jethro was healing, and that was the only important thing.

Tony put the paper bag he had with him down on the floor and picked up the chair from near the wall, bringing it closer to the bed. He had just sat on it when his lover opened his eyes and turned his head to face him.

"Hey," Jethro murmured with a smile.

"Hey yourself," Tony replied, bending down and kissing him softly. "How do you feel today?"

"Better," the older man commented, rising to a seated position.

Tony nodded. "You look better too." He sat down on the chair and reached out to take Jethro's hand in his own. Neither of them was a fan of PDA's but Tony now felt the need for some contact between them, and his lover seemed to agree, since his fingers wrapped tight around his own.

"I didn't see you yesterday," Jethro said.

"I came to visit, but I couldn't stay because your Director was here."

"Vance saw you?"

"Yes. He greeted me with a tilt of his head."

"That explains some things..." Jethro murmured, as if he was talking to himself.

"What things?" Tony pressed. "Things like the fact yesterday afternoon I got a phone call to inform me I'm now under NCIS protection detail? I was told to ask to you why."

Jethro nodded, looking straight at him. "Yeah. Vance knows about us and he's fine with it. As for the protection details, I guess it's time I tell you why Paloma Reynosa...had fun with me." A frown, then his lover looked around, "Where is the agent guarding you?"

"I told Agent Leigh to wait for me at beginning of this corridor, where the agents guarding _you_ are stationed. There are no other access ways to this room, and I thought we could use some privacy," Tony explained.

"Good."

Silence fell in the room, and Tony watched as Jethro seemed to struggle with himself. Probably he was trying to decide what to tell to him or how—and whatever it was his lover wanted to say, it wasn't an easy topic for him.

"You don't have to tell me anything," Tony said softly, squeezing the older man's hand. "I trust you and your judgment."

Jethro shook his head. "No, you have the right to know." A pause then, "Remember when I told you my first wife and daughter were killed after Shannon witnessed a murder in Oceanside?" Tony nodded. "Well, I failed to add I discovered who the killer was and where he hid. I found him, and put a bullet in his head. His name was Pedro Hernandez, and he was Paloma Reynosa and Alejandro Rivera's father."

"So this is about revenge? They discovered you killed their father and they wanted to get even?" Tony asked, just to be sure.

"Paloma has already killed two people to get me and when she dropped me in the desert, she told me I had better hope I died, 'cause, if I survived, she would kill all the people I care about."

"And that explains the agent guarding me," Tony concluded.

"Yeah."

Silence fell again over them, as Tony mulled over what he had heard. He wasn't really surprised, let alone shocked by Jethro's confession. He remembered in what bad mental shape the older man had been when they had first met in 1991. True, he hadn't realized what it's cause was until Cassie had told him Gunny was a recent widower with suicidal tendencies, but the sensation something was very wrong with the man had been there all along, no matter how hard Tony had tried not to acknowledge it.

"Haven't you anything to say?" Jethro's rough voice intruded into his musings.

Tony blinked and looked at his lover, seeing how tense he was...as if he was expecting a blow.

_Oh __Jethro, __you __idiot..._he thought with fond exasperation. _You __fear __I __will __leave __you __because __of __this? __How __wrong __you __are..._

"What do you want me to say? That I can't be in love with a murderer? Or do you expect me to storm out of this room shouting at you to stay away from me?" Tony said, with a tiny bit of anger in his voice.

"You would be entitled to that," Jethro answered, his tone flat, almost unemotional.

"Well, surprise, it is not gonna happen." Tony bent forward, so that his face was closer to his lover. "Jethro, you seem to forget what I did for a living. You didn't bust me for my 'between-the-sheet' activities. You busted me 'cause I acted as mediator between an instigator and a hit man. I had paid a killer to murder your witness, you remember that?" The older man nodded. "Well, in my book, that doesn't make me better than you. So what right do I have to judge you? Especially after having witnessed in first person what losing Shannon and Kelly did to you?" Tony added in a softer tone.

Jethro stared him for a long time as Tony stared back, putting all his love and convictions in his gaze. In the end, he saw his lover relax as a small smile appeared on his worn face.

"Thank you, Tony."

"There's no need to thank me." Tony bent even closer and this time, when his mouth touched Jethro's, the older man opened his lips, deepening the kiss. When they separated, Tony slid to sit on the edge of the bed, and his arms cautiously wrapped around Jethro's back, before he dived in for another kiss. It felt so good to able to do it again, to feel his lover's skin under his lips, his muscles move under his hands, even if the bones were still far too prominent. Jethro felt so good, so alive, and for the first time in weeks, Tony felt truly alive too.

Finally they separated, and looked at each other. Tony took in how Jethro looked, with his cheeks flushed with passion and not discolored by bruises and lips swollen by kisses and not by blows.

He grinned, "You look so good now."

"Yeah, I can imagine," Jethro said gruffly, but his eyes were shining.

Tony laughed and returned to sit on the chair, "So, now that we have put this big, emotional moment behind us, what do you say if we start celebrating the Fourth of July?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"This..." Tony's hand retrieved the paper bag from the floor and put it on the bed. "I couldn't bring you a grilled steak and fries because Nurse Watson would have my head if she discovered us," he explained as he pulled out some food containers. "But I brought chicken sandwiches from my favorite deli, mashed potatoes and this..." Tony opened a thermos and the aroma of strong, black coffee filled the room.

Jethro's eyes brightened as a strange expression appeared on his face. "Coffee...I can't remember the last time I had it..."

Tony smiled and poured some of the dark beverage in a paper cup. "Here, let's begin with a small bit," he said, handing the cup to his lover. "Then, if your stomach is okay with it, I'll give you more."

He watched as Jethro sipped the coffee and grinned at the blissful look appearing on his face.

"Good?"

"Wonderful." He said with a smile, "Thank you."

"You are welcome." Tony opened the bottle of beer he had bought for himself and gently tipped it to touch Jethro's cup. "Happy Fourth of July, Jethro."

"You too Tony, you too."

.

.

For those who were hoping for some Tony/Gibbs interaction, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think, OK?


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**V**

Tony stood by the bathroom door, listening intently to the noises coming from inside, but ready to jump away and sit on the bed before Jethro could catch him hovering.

His lover had been released from the hospital that morning and Tony had been fussing over him since the moment Ducky had driven him home. The good doctor had given strict orders Jethro had to rest and not overexert himself, and Tony had done his best to insure the older man obeyed.

That of course, had led to a shouting match by mid afternoon, when Jethro's patience had come to an end. Since then they had reached a good compromise between his lover's need not to feel like an invalid, and Tony's desire to help him and make sure he was okay.

Tony was worried by what Ducky had told him the previous evening, when the doctor had phoned him to alert him Jethro was going to be released.

Ducky had told him Jethro had rejected his advice to see a therapist to help him deal with the psychological trauma caused by his captivity and the tortures.

"He says he will see a shrink only if he doesn't pass his psychological evaluation, which, by the way, he's sure to pass," Ducky had said, frustration clear in voice.

"Well Ducky," Tony had replied. "I don't think this should be much of a surprise. You know better than me Jethro doesn't like to talk about his feelings and emotions."

"You are right, but I hoped it could be different this time, since Jethro has been submitting to the hospital's cares with far more grace and patience than usual. But I guess I should have known better, especially after what Dr. Jensen told me…"

Tony had frowned upon hearing the name of the doctor who had supervised Jethro's treatment at Bethesda. "What did he say, Ducky?"

"Dr. Jensen informed me there is still some internal swelling and bruising in Jethro's groin area. He feels confident it will disappear in time, but until it does, well, it's quite possible Jethro won't be able to…how can I put it delicately? Oh yes, he won't be able to perform in the bedroom."

Tony had cringed upon hearing the news. "Does Jethro know?"

"Yes, he does."

"Then there is no way he will see a shrink, not now as he is probably feeling as if Paloma Reynosa emasculated him."

"You are a good judge of character, Anthony," Ducky had commented.

"I had to be in my past line of work. My success and, most importantly, my safety depended on it."

"Then I believe you probably are the most suitable person to deal with Jethro if…the problem arises."

Tony had nodded, remembering all the times he had to deal with men that hadn't been able to get it up. "I've plenty of experience, Ducky, but I hope you will understand when I say I pray I won't need to use it with Jethro."

"Oh yes, dear Anthony, I do."

Tony returned to the present when he heard the click of the door and by the time Jethro exited from the bathroom, he was sitting on the bed, faking an ease he didn't feel.

What if the older man wanted to make love? What if it turned out he couldn't? They just had a confrontation that day, and he didn't wish for added stress for his lover. He wanted Jethro to have a nice night of sleep in his bed, in Tony's arms.

"Bathroom is all yours," Jethro said, stepping into the bedroom wearing an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

"Okay. I'll be quick," Tony answered, taking his own clothes from the bedside table where he had put them earlier.

His lover snorted as he walked toward his side of the bed. "There is no need to rush. I'm not going anywhere."

Tony nodded and went to the bathroom. He performed his nightly routine a bit faster than usual as anxiety mounted, but when he returned into the bedroom a few minutes later, he saw his worry had been for nothing.

Jethro was fast asleep on his side, one of his arms stretched out, ready for Tony to use it as a pillow in what has fast became their usual sleeping position.

Tony smiled as he switched off the lights. He slipped between the sheets and scooted closer to Jethro. As he spooned against the older man, he was enveloped his lover's scent and basked in a kind of warmth that hadn't anything to do with the summer heat. Then he closed his eyes, and joined Jethro in sleep.

**-x-**

Gibbs tossed and twisted in his sleep trying to get away – a soft whimper escaped his lips.

"_Beg, Gibbs, beg me to kill you," a voice whispers close to his ear as pain consumes his body. "I can put an end to your suffering...just beg me..."_

_Raising his head is almost too much of an effort, but he manages to do it and lock his blue eyes with her cruel brown ones._

"_Go to hell..." he whispers._

"_No, you go to hell..." Reynosa hisses as she raises her knee and slams it against his groin. He slumps forward, loosing purchase on the floor as his legs collapse, and she rains blows down on his back with a riding crop, the blows reopening old wounds and inflicting new ones..._

_Then Paloma's hand grabs his shoulder and shakes him... _

"Jethro, wake up..."

_Her hands move to his forehead...what does she wants to do now? The knife, she has again the knife..._

"_Beg me Gibbs..."_

"Jethro, love, please stop screaming."

_Raise your head, Marine. Open your eyes, look at her. Spit in her face..._

Gibbs opened his eyes and found scared green eyes looking down at him from Tony's worried face.

"Tony?"

"The one and only," the voice was tense but a sliver of relief cut through the strain. "Now calm down, Jethro. It was just a nightmare, and now you're awake."

Gibbs looked around himself, to the familiar walls of his bedroom, bathed by the light cast by the bedside lamp.

It wasn't Reynosa's 'playroom'. There was no Paloma, no J.P. Dean.

No hunched shoulders, long past cramping, stretched without mercy over him and holding his weight, no sore knees striving to keep him upright while blazing pain reminded him he was still alive.

He was in his bedroom, and Tony was there with him, his big but tender hands caressing his hair and the side of his face.

God, it had been only a nightmare.

Little by little his breathing slowed, as his heartbeat calmed. Gibbs swallowed hard then said roughly, "Sorry, I woke you up."

Tony shook his head. "There is no need to apologize. Ducky told me it was probable you would have nightmares, but I hoped they would have spared you tonight. I wanted you to have a good night of sleep." A quick smile. "Do you want me to give you one of the pills Ducky prescribed if you had trouble sleeping?"

"No," Gibbs shook his head resolutely. "It was just a nightmare. It's no big deal. Let's get back to sleep."

"Okay," Tony whispered. He switched off the lamp and settled down at his side, and started to run his hands and fingers along his arms, his chest, his neck, and his face.

Gibbs thought there was a pattern in Tony's touches – was it something he had learned during his 'career'? – and whatever it was, it was working.

He felt relaxed, content...safe.

Before long, he was sleeping again, and this time no nightmare would interrupt his rest.

.

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See? I told you their troubles were far from being over. What do you think?


	7. Chapter 7

**Later and later...but still here.**

**Thanks so much for the review and enjoy the new chapters!**

**VI**

One week after being released from the hospital, Ducky and the NCIS psychologist deemed Gibbs fit to return to work, although he would be confined to desk duty for at least a week more.

Being back in the office felt like a tonic to Gibbs. Being confined at home, even in Tony's company had started to grate on his nerves. He was an active man, used to action and rest wasn't for him.

He felt fine, his left hand was out of the cast and had already regained most of its agility, and he was working to regain his stamina, running in the park with Tony and exercising in a nearby gym.

All he needed now was to clean up the mess he had caused and that meant putting Paloma Reynosa, her brother and J.P. Dean behind bars or, if he was really lucky, beneath six feet of dirt.

His team was happy to see him return to work, and he was happy to see them again. They were all good people, people he was proud to call friends, and he felt badly for having put them in danger—although he wasn't sorry of having survived Paloma's tortures.

Gibbs had no idea if his team was aware of Reynosa' motivations for killing Macy, Bell and for torturing him. Abby and Ducky knew, of course, but he was not sure about Stan, Ziva and Tim. However he didn't dig for answers. As was the case for many other things, this was also one where it was best not to tell if no one asked first.

As for Abby and Ducky, he was happy, heck, relieved, to see the knowledge of what he had done had not ruined his relationship with them. His newly healed-ribs still ached from the hug Abby had given him when he had stepped into her lab with a Caf-Pow! for the first time seven weeks, and his heart still rejoiced at Ducky's heartfelt, "Welcome back, Jethro" when he had gone to visit him in Autopsy.

Unfortunately, seeing his friend and Palmer hadn't been the reason that had brought Gibbs down to Autopsy.

One of the first things his team had shown him when he had asked if there were news about Mike Franks had been video of a shooting happened in La Paz about one week after Gibbs had disappeared.

In that video, taken by a security camera and sent to them by one of their contacts in Mexico, Mike Franks could be seen tailing Alejandro Rivera until the moment someone opened fire on the crowd. The video showed Rivera escape inside an awaiting SUV while Mike was hit by the fire, one, two, maybe even three times before he disappeared from the cameras' range. It was clear by how Rivera had signaled with his hand a moment before the shooting had started, that it had been a set up. Paloma's brother had known Mike was tailing him and had dragged him in the open, where he had been an easy target for the shooters.

Gibbs had gone to Ducky to ask what kind of injury Mike could have suffered based on what they knew of the areas where he had been shot—and the prognosis hadn't been good.

"He was hit in his lower chest, Jethro," Ducky had explained, "and he certainly suffered some serious internal damage. So his chances of survival depended on how quickly he was able to get appropriate medical assistance."

"There are no records of Mike being admitted in any of La Paz's hospitals," Gibbs had said.

"Don't despair yet, Jethro. He could have found help elsewhere," Ducky had commented, patting his arm and Gibbs had nodded, hoping his friend was right.

Then he had left the Autopsy and returned to the squad room, feeling even more determined to find a way to stop Paloma and her brother before they could harm someone else.

**-x-**

Tony and Ducky were sitting at a table of the Navy Yard Metro Center Cafe. While the food was quite good, it wasn't the main reason they had chosen to meet there. The cafe's location, close to both the NCIS Head Quarters and the government building where Tony was holding another of his seminars about sexual harassment, made it a perfect place for a meeting.

"So Anthony, what did you want to talk me about?" Ducky said, after they finished eating, "I presume it concerns Jethro."

"Yes, Ducky. How do you find him? Is he okay on the job?" Tony answered, as he leant forward on the table.

"As far as I can tell, yes, he is fine. His team is restricted to review cold cases for this week, so Jethro hasn't yet completely returned to field duty, but all the reports I got from Stanley, Ziva, Timothy and Abigail are positive. He is focused, abrasive and short tempered as usual. I know that this morning the entire team was at the shooting range and Jethro didn't miss a single target."

"I'm relieved to hear it, because I was concerned the nightmares might influence him on the job. You know, causing him to be tired or less sharp," Tony explained.

Ducky smiled gently and folded his hand on the table as he said, "Anthony, nightmares are normal after such a terrible experience."

"Even if they are so bad they make him wake up screaming night after night?" Tony pressed, as he heard again the anguished cries that had awoken him earlier that morning.

"Yes. You see, Jethro is a very stubborn man, and he is very good at repressing feeling and memories. Do you know he had been in a nineteen-day long coma just after Shannon and Kelly died?" Tony shook his head. "It had been caused by an explosion in Kuwait, but it lasted so long because Jethro didn't want to wake up—and thus face the reality of a life without his family. Then, four years ago, he was again the victim of an explosion, which caused a sort of relapse in him. Basically the explosion caused amnesia in him, erasing fifteen years of his life. He was back in 1991, when he was a Marine Gunnery Sergeant who had just lost his family. This time too Jethro's coma lasted longer than expected because he didn't want to wake up."

"He never told me," Tony murmured, as he tried to imagine how terrible the pain of losing his family must had been to push his lover to seek refuge from it in unconsciousness not once, but twice.

"That's not surprising, giving Jethro's private nature. I told you because what is happening is similar to those two episodes. In the past he managed to escape his pain for days, but in the end he couldn't stay unconscious forever, thus he had to resurface and face his grief. This time, he is suppressing the memories of what happened to him while he was in Paloma Reynosa's hands. It works well during the day – so well he passed his psychological evaluation with flying colors—but not during the night, when his memories break free and cause nightmares."

"But why he is suppressing his memories? Jethro is a brave man, a Marine. It's not like him to escape from reality," Tony exclaimed.

"My young friend, Jethro isn't doing it on purpose. He isn't consciously trying to escape from reality. This is an instinctive coping mechanism we all have, but in his case it's extremely strong. In this moment Jethro is concerned about Mike Franks' fate and about tracking Paloma Reynosa, her brother and J.P. Dean before they can harm someone else. He is concerned about our safety and feeling guilty because he is responsible for putting all of us in danger. This is a very stressful situation, and he feels he has to be the point of reference, the rock for all of us. So his mind is doing everything it can to make him able to face it as he feels he must face it. As you said, Jethro is a Marine, which means he has set very high standards for himself and he will do everything he can – consciously and unconsciously—to be up to them."

Tony nodded in understanding, feeling badly for even thinking Jethro could be acting in a cowardly way, while instead he was struggling to be the man, the boss, his people wanted and needed him to be.

But he wasn't one of his people. Or better, he was, but in a different way from the others. Tony didn't need Jethro to be strong in his behalf. He just wanted his lover to be well again. He wanted to see Jethro laugh again, to see him smile that special smile of his; the one that reached his eyes and set them afire with happiness.

"What can I do to help him, Ducky?"

"Just be near him. Jethro is allowing you to be witness to his distress and to help him after he has a nightmare. It means he's not ashamed to have them, and he doesn't feel weak because of them. That's very good."

"Is there anything else?"

"Well, if it was someone else, I would suggest sessions with a therapist, but that wouldn't work with Jethro. He would close up even more and resent us for obliging him to 'spill his guts' to a stranger. So I advise we just keep a close eye on him and see how he does. If things go as I hope, facing his memories will became easier as he gains confidence in himself – and once again I'm talking about unconscious actions. Getting back to what he does best, investigating crimes, interrogating suspects, getting confessions...that will do him a lot of good. I expect his nightmares to become less frequent the more confident he begins to feel."

"Will he be able to face Paloma Reynosa should they find her?" Tony asked, taken by a sudden impulse.

Ducky took off his glasses and cleaned them, clearly buying time before answering. "That question will get a definitive answer only when that woman is caught. Right now it's too soon to predict how Jethro will react in her presence."

"I understand," Tony replied, raising a hand to call the waiter and get the bill. It was getting late and his lunch break was almost over.

"One more thing, Anthony, since we are here discussing Jethro," Ducky said with a soft tone.

"What Ducky?"

"May I know how he is dealing with that other...matter?"

"What matter?" Tony asked, puzzled.

"The one I discussed with Dr. Jensen."

"Oh, that one. Well, for the moment we haven't had to deal with it. Jethro collapses asleep every night," Tony answered.

"Well, my friend, as frustrating it can be for you, I believe it's a good thing. The more time that passes before you two get...close and personal...the higher are the chances Jethro won't have any problem."

Tony shook his head gently, as he stood up from his chair. "It's not frustrating. I don't mind waiting. I just wish to see Jethro well and happy. All the rest will come in due time."

Ducky smiled and said, "You are very wise, Anthony. Very wise indeed."

.

.

So Gibbs is making some progress...but the path to recovery is still, long. Let me know what you think and remember reviews make me wish to post even when my free time is almost nil. Oh, there is some "M" rated action coming soon...


	8. Chapter 8

**Thank you so much for the reviews. And now get ready for some M rated action...although it won't be what some of you are expecting/predicting.**

**VII**

Gibbs felt quite energized that night, the exhaustion that had plagued him in the past two weeks just a memory.

That day had marked his return to field duty and he and his team had been busy investigating the murder of a petty officer. While Gibbs had been saddened by the sight of the young victim, it had felt good to be once again on the streets, taking notes, listening to witnesses and putting together the evidence needed to catch the killer—and caught him they had. It had taken them just five hours to discover the motive behind the murder and nail the culprit. Vance too had been impressed, and had come down into the bull pen to say good job to the team.

Now a few hours later after the arrest and the confession, Gibbs was still in good spirits and waiting not too patiently for Tony to finish his nightly routine and come to bed.

He wanted to ask the young man something, in the hope his answer would give him –them—a reason to celebrate.

The door of the bathroom opened and Tony stepped out, wearing only a pair of boxers. Gibbs' eyes devoured his muscular form and stopped on the tattoo on his left hips, which peaked from beneath the boxers' waist band.

"Hey," Tony commented as he moved to the bed. "You're still awake."

"Very observant, Sherlock," he teased. Then he added, more seriously, "I thought we could talk for a while."

"Sure," Tony answered, sitting down on the mattress at Gibbs' side with his back against the headboard. "So what do you want to talk about?"

"Us, Tony."

The younger man turned to face him fully, with a very intent look on his face. "What about us?"

"Well," Gibbs said, reaching out to take his lover's hand in his own. "I first wanted to thank you again for what you did for me in these weeks. It hasn't been easy for you, has it?"

"It hasn't been, but I know you would have done the same for me, so there is no need for you to thank me again," Tony answered, squeezing his hand.

"All right…moving to the second topic, although it's connected to the first." Gibbs paused to gather his thoughts, then plunged in. "These past weeks have brought some changes in our relationship. Vance and Ducky know about us and the I think the rest of the team, Abby included, suspects. And all of them are okay with that. So, since my job was the main reason stopping us, and since we now know we can stand each other's company 24/7, would you consider to-"

"Yes," Tony interrupted him. "There is nothing I would like more than to move in with you."

"Good."

Gibbs grinned happily and watched a similar expression appear on Tony's face. Oh, God, he was so handsome when he smiled that cocky, all-American smile of his…Suddenly just looking wasn't enough. He had to taste that smile to see if it tasted as good as he remembered.

He raised both his hands and cupped Tony's cheeks, pulling him closer as he plundered his mouth. Oh, yes, he tasted as good as he remembered…no he tasted better, because everything tasted better, felt better, sounded better after one had risked losing it.

Tony groaned when Gibbs began kissing and lightly biting his neck as his hands slid down to surround the younger man's back.

Tony own hands slipped beneath Gibbs' t-shirt, touching his belly, and his muscled clenched with anticipation.

They kissed again with wild passion, as if they were both starving for each other. Lips biting, teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance.

"I've missed you, Tony," Gibbs said after a while, looking at his lover passion-dilated eyes. "Missed being with you like this..."

"I missed you too," the younger man answered and moved in for another kiss. "You taste so damn good, Jethro..."

On common accord, they moved to a horizontal position, Gibbs following his lover's lead after removing his t-shirt and throwing it away. He stretched atop of Tony, groaning at the exquisite feeling of his skin brushing against the younger man.

Gibbs resumed his assault on Tony's neck, throat and chest, murmuring his approval as his lover's hands swept up and down his back, alternately caressing him and raking his blunt fingernails along his spine.

The heat between their bodies grew almost scalding, and Gibbs had the absurd notion the bed would catch fire soon. He dived in for another hard kiss and when it was ended, Tony panted. "I want you Jethro ... now ..."

"Yes..."

They separated and Gibbs rose to his knees as Tony removed his boxers, freeing his hard, leaking cock. He did the same with his shorts, but when the fabric fell away he saw with stunned surprise his penis was completely soft, showing no reaction to the passion coursing in his veins.

It was like a bucket of chilly water thrown over his head. Quickly, he pulled up his shorts to cover the proof of his failure and sat down on the bed near Tony, but with a good distance between them. He stared ahead of him, at the opposite wall, as at his side a rustle of fabric and a shifting in the mattress alerted him his lover had covered himself too.

They sat in silence as Gibbs cursed his body for letting him down, for letting Tony down. He knew how much the younger man liked to be taken...His 'I want you Jethro...' had been so needy, so full of want, and Gibbs wanted nothing more than give him what he needed, what he wanted—but he couldn't. His body had betrayed him.

He let out a humorless laughter as he thought at the irony of the situation: the very night he asked his lover to move in with him, he wasn't able to get it up—and God only knew for how long it would be so.

"Perhaps you should reconsider your answer," he said, without looking at Tony.

"What answer?" came the puzzled reply.

"About moving in with me," Gibbs explained, finally facing the other man. "I'll understand if this," he made a disgusted face as he gestured to his groin, "made you change your mind."

He saw Tony's eyes widen, then narrow. "Don't be absurd, Jethro," he snapped, waving his hand in a dismissive way. "You know this is only temporary. Dr. Jensen told you it could happen but will pass as soon as the bruising and swelling disappears."

Gibbs' own eyes narrowed as he growled, "How do you know what he said?"

"Ducky told me," Tony answered quietly.

He saw red and jumped out of the bed as he snarled, "Ducky told you? You discussed my sexual life with him?"

"Well, since this affects my sexual life too, he thought it was best if I knew," Tony replied, his voice low and calm, but somehow the younger man's reasonable acceptance of the situation made Gibbs even madder.

"Damn right it affects you too!" he shouted. "How can you be so calm? I can't get it up! Do you know what it means? I cannot fuck you!"

Upon hearing that, Tony lost his calm attitude and stood up, facing Gibbs from the other side of the bed, "Good grief, Jethro! Sometimes I wonder how can you be such a brilliant investigator and yet be so dense!" he cried. "Do you think the only thing I want from you is your cock up my ass? I love you! There is much more than sex between us!"

Gibbs paced angrily along his side of the bed and answered his voice less loud that before, "Of course there is! I know that. I love you too. But you can't deny sex is important too."

"You're right, it is," Tony replied, in a calm tone. "But you're overreacting. Your problem isn't permanent. You will be okay when your body heals."

"And what if it doesn't? What if this isn't temporary?" Gibbs pressed, stopping his angry pacing to look straight at his lover.

"Then we'll find a solution. Together."

"That's not enough, Tony. You are young, virile. You've needs. What if I could no longer satisfy them?"

Gibbs saw Tony look at the ceiling and roll his eyes. Then the younger man circled the bed and approached him, a determined look on his face. "First of all, an erection isn't necessary to enjoy yourself in bed. I see a mouth and ten fingers from here, and that's all I need. Well, that, as long as they're attached to you." A weak smile then, "Jethro, you are completely missing the target here."

"How?"

"You forget I've been a whore for all my entire adult life. I have had an almost endless list of men and women using me, using my body to get their pleasure. I had enough sex to last for two lifetimes— but it was all loveless, soulless sex. You're the only person I ever made love with." Tony took another step forward, until he was close enough to cup Gibbs' cheek with his hand. "What I'm trying to make you understand, is that I love you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and that all I want from you is to be allowed to take care of you, to make you happy…and I wouldn't care a fig if it turned out to mean we will have to live in chastity for the rest of our lives as long as you promise me we will fall asleep in each other arms every night. Do you believe me?" His lover asked, his green eyes anxiously scanning his face.

Gibbs nodded slowly. "I do," he said, with a rough, emotion-filled voice he barely recognized as his own. He really did. Tony's love and convictions had been so strong, so palpable; he couldn't doubt them or his lover's sincerity.

"Good," Tony murmured, relieved. He bent his head and planted a small kiss on Gibbs' lips. "Now, let's go to bed. Tomorrow will come soon enough."

Gibbs nodded and a few minutes they were both lying down, spooning together in their usual sleeping position. Only that he didn't feel like sleeping at all. Tony felt so good with his back pressed against his chest and he couldn't resist.

He leant forward and nuzzled Tony's neck, taking in the scent of his sandalwood soap. He rained little kisses along the younger man's shoulders and upper back as the arm wrapped around Tony's waist began to massage his belly.

Tony squirmed against him and turned his neck to look at Gibbs. "You don't have to do this, Jethro," he whispered.

"I know. But I want to do it. Now be still and enjoy it."

He continued his exploration of Tony's neck and back as his right hand took care of his lover's front side, palm brushing his chest hair, fingers teasing his ribs and gently pinching hardened nipples.

Gibbs smiled against Tony's neck as the younger man's breath quickened. His hand slipped inside his lover's boxers and brushed his erect cock.

"Take them off," he ordered quietly, and grinned at the celerity Tony obeyed him with. Gibbs rose slight on his left elbow and looked down, sweeping his gaze over Tony's body, admiring how the dim light of the bedside lamp played over it. Settling back against the mattress, he let his right hand wander down and wrap around Tony's cock, stroking lightly.

It was a bit strange to be like this, pressed against his lover's squirming and panting body and not to feel the need to rub against his buttocks or thrust between them. Or better, he had the desire to do it, in his mind, but it hadn't translated in the need of his body. His cock was as limp and asleep as before, but this time, he didn't panic or get angered. He just accepted it, although he sent a prayer to the powers above that it would be just temporary as he had been told.

Then Gibbs stopped thinking about himself and focused fully on Tony, stroking him in the way he knew his lover liked most. He ran his fingers up and down the sensitive vein on the underside of the cock, as his thumb traced circles over the damp, swollen head.

Tony's breath was becoming more labored with each passing second, as small whimpers and moans escaped his lips. Gibbs felt a wave of power and heady satisfaction at the idea he could reduce his lover into a heap of quivering need with just a few touches and increased the speed of his ministrations over Tony's cock.

A couple of moments later he felt the organ in his hand get even thicker and harder, and then spasm in release as Tony cried out, "Jethro!"

Gibbs buried his nose in Tony's soft hair and closed his eyes as warm come coated his hand. He kept stroking until Tony finished, loving the little sounds of pleasure escaping from his lover's lips. Then the younger man shuddered one last time and lay still, trying to catch his breath.

They stayed like that until Tony recovered and turned around in Gibbs' arms, coming to face him.

"Had fun?" Gibbs asked softly.

"You know I did," Tony whispered, leaning forward and capturing his mouth in a wet, sloppy but perfect kiss.

"Good," Gibbs took another kiss, before pulling back to look, with amusement, as Tony fought to keep his eyes open.

"Go to sleep," he murmured. "No need to fight it in my behalf, 'cause I'll join you soon."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Sleep Tony."

Gibbs watched as Tony's eyes closed, his breathing slowing and deepening quickly. He observed his lover's face for a while, taking in every detail, until slumber crept over him and he fell asleep too—and although he could not know at that time, no nightmare would interrupt his rest that night.

.

.

OK, this is the "never done before situation" I mentioned months ago when I first talked about this sequel. I've never read a story where Gibbs had this problem. I know it was a risky turn to give to this story, but I think it is a realistic one. Gibbs is a man in his fifties, and his body needs time to heal, more than he would like. I'm sorry if someone is disappointed for they were expecting another kind of smut; all I can say is to be patient and that, I believe, there is more to romance/ hurt-comfort stories than smut.

Let me know what you think, OK? I see the number of reviews is decreasing everyday. I know this isn't an easy story and that hurt-Gibbs is probably less popular than hurt-Tony, but if you take a look at the canon, Gibbs has been hurt far more times than Tony...and I wanted to do something different. I've never been one to follow the trend. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**First of all, thanks so much for the reviews and your appreciation for the "twist" given to this story.**

**Secondly, when I said the reviews had been decreasing, it wasn't a veiled way to say "No reviews = no more story". **

**I would never do it to my readers, since I hate when other authors pull this stunt with no regard for all the people who reviewed.**

**Thirdly, this story is already written and, as I said, I consider it one of my favourite stories. So I'm not going to change nothing of it, no matter if the path I took is liked by many or by just a few...**

**I was just pointing out the fact the reviews were decreasing, which could have been a sign this story was losing followers, possibly due to the fact so far it is more hurt/comfort than romance...It was just a statement.**

**So, on with the new chapter...and Happy Thanksgving Day to all my American readers!**

**.**

**VIII**

The week following the 'Bruised Cock Crisis', as Tony had labeled it, passed quickly and uneventfully. Jethro went to work and since Tony had no commitments, he used his considerable free time to pack his things and move it in his lover's, no, their house.

Tony loved the place. While several pieces of furniture had clearly seen better days, they gave a special look to the house. This wasn't a modern apartment, furnished by a big-name designer and equipped with all the most advanced technological tools, cool and trendy but ultimately cold and impersonal.

This house was filled with things that spoke of Jethro's personality and life. There were books everywhere, telling to anyone, even to the most casual visitor, how much his lover liked to read and what his tastes were. There was a goldfish swimming in a small bowl, showing his lover's liking for animals, but also the impossibility for him to keep a pet that required more time and care his job allowed him to give. There was an old, faded sticker on his fridge's door, a butterfly, a memento of the little girl that once lived in the house… Everywhere he looked Tony saw something special, and he felt touched and proud Jethro had asked him to share that space with him.

The two men spent most of their evenings finding room for Tony's things, clearing shelves and drawers, moving piece of furniture, until, by Saturday morning, when Tony stepped down in the living room on his way to the kitchen, he really felt this was now their home, and not just because of the large plasma screen and high-tech entertaining center now dominating the room. The changes, big and small, there everywhere and they made him smile.

"You look like a cat that got the cream," Jethro said, coming out of the kitchen with his favorite mug of coffee in his hand.

Tony flashed him a smile and replied innocently, "As far as I remember, you got all the cream yesterday night," referring to the blow-job the older man had given him. He laughed as he saw Jethro blush and struggle not to sputter his coffee. He walked toward the coffee machine to fill his own mug, and yelped when a strong hand slapped his ass. "Hey!" he protested.

"Don't ever say something like that…not when I've hot coffee in my mouth," Jethro admonished, but his eyes were laughing.

"Got it, _Boss_," Tony teased, tilting his head down to steal coffee-flavored kiss. He walked to the counter and had just started to pour cereal in a bowl when Jethro's cell phone chirped.

"Yeah, Gibbs," his lover answered as Tony hoped the call wasn't work related. They had planned to spend the day lazing on the back porch and doing some gardening. But all his hopes for quiet day alone were shattered when he saw the color drain from Jethro's face as he listed to what his caller was telling him.

"Is he all right? Was he wounded?" Jethro asked urgently and Tony put down his bowl as he wondered whom his lover was talking about.

"_Who?__"_ Tony mouthed, but Jethro raised his hand, and mouthed, _"__Later.__"_

"Are they coming here? Are they already on the road? Good. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

Jethro ended the call, and took a deep breath, before running his hand over his face.

"What is it, Jethro?" Tony asked, now very worried. "Who was on the phone?"

"It was Vance. He called to say thirty minutes ago Paloma Reynosa and two of her men opened fire with automatic weapons on my Dad's store in Stillwater."

"My God!" Tony exclaimed. "Is he all right?"

"Yes…luckily he and Agent Merrick were able to hide inside a storm cellar in the back of the store, but the place is a mess."

Tony nodded, not knowing what to say.

"I need to go now. I must get in contact with the Pennsylvania State Police and coordinate our effort to catch her," Jethro said as he moved to retrieve his gun from the safe. "My father is coming here. Can you please check if there are clean sheets in the guest room? I can't remember if I changed them after the last time Abby slept here."

"I'll do it, no problem," Tony said as he followed Jethro to the door. The older man was almost out of the house when a sudden idea struck him. He reached out with his arm and put it on Jethro's, stopping him.

"What?" his lover asked.

"Would you prefer if I moved back to my place while your Dad is here?"

"No. Why should I want it?" Gibbs asked with a frown.

"Because this probably isn't the best time to introduce me to him. He is certainly shaken and under a lot of stress after what just happened and, well, perhaps it is best if we don't add to his shock."

Gibbs shook his head. "No. First of all, this is your house now, and while this might not be the best time to introduce you and my father, it is indeed time I do it. We have come out with everyone else, so it's time Jack knows too. Secondly, I've no idea of how long it will take to find Paloma Reynosa and her cronies, and until it happens, my father will stay here, and I don't want you to feel like we have to sneak around to be together. Besides, you know I feel better when I have you near and I know you are safe."

"That's settled then," Tony said with a resolute nod. "Now go; I'll be here if you need me."

Jethro nodded back and ran down the porch steps and to his car. A moment later he departed at full speed, leaving behind a full set of tire tracks.

"Is everything all right, Mr. DiNozzo?" Agent Leigh asked, appearing from around the corner of the house.

"Yes, Robert. It is, but I think you are going to have company soon. Paloma Reynosa is in the States and I'm ready to bet this house is soon going to became one of the most guarded places around, White House excluded, that is," Tony answered with a tight smile, before returning inside and closing the door.

**-x-**

Gibbs opened the door and went in carrying his father's hastily made suitcase as Jackson followed him, leaning heavily on his cane.

He put the suitcase near the stairs and walked back to close and lock the door, after exchanging a nod with the two agents guarding the house for the night.

Then he followed his father in the living room and watched as he sat down on the couch with a grateful sigh. Jackson had taken remarkably well what had happened to him that morning and had hadn't any trouble in reporting what Reynosa had said to him, although she hadn't said anything useful.

Now, however, Gibbs couldn't help but be concerned about how his father would take the news his son was in with love and lived with another man. Jackson and him hadn't been really close since his mother had died, and they had never talked about sex-related topic, beside Jackson's warnings about 'being careful' when he had started to date as a teenager.

Gibbs had no idea of what his father thought of homosexual relationships, but he was bound to know it soon, because his father was smart and by the way he was looking around the living room, he had already guessed something major had happened in his son's life.

As if he had just read his mind, Jackson turned around and looked at him with curious eyes, "Do you have a roommate now, Leroy?"

"No, Dad. Not a roommate. A partner," Gibbs answered, silently wondering where Tony was. Then he heard a slight creek coming from the kitchen, and got the answer to his question.

"A partner? Good. I'm happy you are no longer alone, Son. So when did she move in? When can I meet her?"

Gibbs walked closer to the kitchen doorway and stretched out his arm as he said to his father, "You can meet him now. Tony?"

Tony came out from the kitchen and took the offered hand with his own. Gibbs squeezed it briefly, and pulled his lover closer to him, as they faced Jackson, waiting for the older man reaction—which didn't take long.

"He is your partner?" Jackson asked with a shocked look as he gestured at Tony with his cane.

"Yes, Dad. Let me introduce you, Anthony DiNozzo."

"Tony for short, Mr. Gibbs," Tony added, stepping closer to the couch with his stretched hand.

Jackson didn't take it, but stood up and scrutinized Tony's face. "You look familiar, as if I have already seen you somewhere. Are you a NCIS agent too? Did I see you in the office when I visited at Christmas?"

"No, Mr. Gibbs. I'm not an agent. I own a restaurant and a sporting resort."

"Uhm," Jackson commented, still looking at Tony like a hawk. "And for how long this has been going on?" he asked at his son.

"A few months," he answered. "Tony moved in last week."

Jackson shook this head, "I didn't know you…swing both ways, Leroy. It is called that, isn't it? How could I have missed something so big?"

"Tony is the only man I have ever been with, Dad, now, and nineteen years ago," Gibbs answered softly. "And the only one I ever imagine myself to be with. I don't swing both ways…just in Tony's way." He saw Tony smile with a corner of his eye.

"Nineteen years ago? You mean this has been going on for nineteen years? Is it why your marriages failed? Because of him?" Jackson accused, his eyes fixed on Tony.

"No. My marriages failed because I tried to replace Shannon with women who looked like her but weren't her. As for Tony, we met shortly after Shannon's death, and then we parted ways, until we met again earlier this year," Gibbs explained, trying to stay calm in front of his father's accusations.

An uneasy silence fell on the three men as Jackson stared hard at Tony. Then suddenly, the older man's eyes widened and he pointed a finger at his son's lover. "I remember now! I remember where I saw him. It was on TV, during a report about prostitution. They showed his picture and said he is about to write a book about the sexual escapades of our politicians." He turned to face Gibbs and exclaimed, "He's a whore, Leroy! You know that?"

"He _was_ a whore, Dad. And yes, I know. That's how we met."

"How you met…? Good Lord, I cannot believe this! Not only are you living with a man, but with a whore too! What's wrong with you?" Jackson all but shouted.

Gibbs clenched his fists by his sides as he felt Tony's touch his forearm. "There is nothing wrong with me, Jack," he said, trying to contain his ager. "I found a person able to make me happy after years of loneliness and sadness, and I don't give a damn about his sex or past profession. I love him, and I hoped you would be happy for me. For us."

"How can I be happy for you if I think you're committing a terrible mistake?" Jackson wondered aloud as he walked toward the exit. "Don't wait for me at dinner; I've lost my appetite."

Gibbs and Tony watched the older man storm away from the room, at least as much as man walking with a cane could storm out. A few minutes later they heard a door slam shut upstairs.

"Well," Tony commented softly. "That could have gone better."

Gibbs turned his head and saw the sad look on his lover's face. He put an arm around the younger man's shoulder and pulled him closer in a half-embrace. "Don't feel bad. Things will improve after he calms down and gets used to the idea," he murmured into Tony's ear, before kissing it.

"I hope you're right," Tony replied, as he shifted position to embrace Gibbs fully, "or the next days are going to be very hard."

.

.

So Paloma is finally back and Jackson isn't happy to discover his son is in love with another man. Let me know what you think!


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks so much for the reviews. I'm happy you liked the fact Jackson wasn't immediately OK with his son living with another man. Given my experience with elderly people, I thought it was more realistic than having Jackson welcome Tony with open arms. **

**Also to 'boymommytotwoatmsndotcom': no, my line in my A/N about not changing the story wasn't meant as an answer to your review. I was rather a reply to the reviewers that encouraged me not to change anything in the story, no matter what the others thought. I wanted to let them know that no, the idea of changing the story to make more popular never crossed my mind. **

**And now on with the new chapter!**

**-x-**

Tony bolted awake at the first scream piercing the stillness of the room. He rolled quickly away, barely in time to avoid a flying fist and a kick as, at his side, Jethro thrashed, struggling against the people that hurt him in his nightmare.

"Noooo! Stop please…I beg you…no more…no more….Arghhh!" Jethro screamed as he contorted on the bed.

Tony's heart twisted as tried to imagine what kind of pain could have brought a man like Jethro to beg for some reprieve. He was aware, of course, of the type of wounds Paloma Reynosa had inflicted to his lover, but he had no idea of what kind of pain a knife stab, or a whipping or cigar burn caused. He had no idea of what Jethro had been forced to endure day after day for almost a month. And it was probably a good thing, because there was no way he could be strong for his lover if he truly knew what it was that had been done to him. The knowledge would break him, and Jethro didn't need that. He needed Tony to be his rock, to help him to keep his demons at bay.

Tony moved forward and tried to take Jethro in his arms to shake him awake.

"Wake up Jethro! You're safe here. It's just a dream. Come on, Gunny, wake up."

"Stop…no more…." Jethro whispered brokenly, as tears sprang from his tightly shut eyelids and slid down his cheeks.

"_Oh __God,__"_ Tony thought, _"__he __is __crying__…"_ What did that damned woman do to him to make him cry?

Jethro was now calmer, but still prey of his dream, so Tony shook him a bit harder. "Wake up, Gunny. Open those beautiful eyes of yours. Come on…"

And finally, blessedly, Jethro did it. His eyes opened and he stared fixedly at Tony.

"That is, Jethro," Tony whispered with a shaky smile, brushing the dampness on his lover's cheeks with his thumbs.

"Tony?" the older man choked out his name as if just barely recognizing who was before him. At Tony's nod, Jethro let out a shaky breath and slumped on the bed, the tension seeping out of his body and leaving him empty and limp. Then his body started to shake and his eyes squeezed shut. Tony realized that Jethro was trying to control himself, that he was desperately trying to bring his memories under control, and that it was sapping all of his strength.

"No love, don't do that," Tony said urgently, cupping Jethro's cheeks. "Let it go...let all of them go...cry."

"I can't," Jethro whispered, trying to pull his face away from Tony's hold, but the young man didn't let him go. Tony continued to cradle his face within his hands, then leaned forward so their foreheads touched.

"Why not?"

"I have no tears left in me. She took them away. All of them...my screams, my pleas, my tears...my dignity…my pride...my strength...she took everything... No tears...no more..," Jethro whispered in a broken voice, his body still shaking with the emotions he was trying to suppress.

"Then I'll give you mine," Tony, murmured, no longer trying to stop his own tears, letting them streak down his cheeks. "Oh, Gunny, hold on to me. It's time to let it go, let it all go and hold on to me."

And blessedly, Jethro did.

His arms rose shakily to wrap around Tony's back, and Jethro finally cried and let go, sobbing his pain and despair into his lover's neck.

Tony didn't know for how long it went on, for how long he stayed there, with his hand caressing Jethro's hair as his lover cried. He just knew that after a while the sobs and the shaking subsided and the death grip Jethro had on his back loosened, as the older man fell limp on the mattress.

Tony pulled back and looked down at his lover. His face was tear-streaked and pale, and there was snot under his nose...but his eyes...his eyes were now clearer. Brighter, even in spite their redness and puffiness.

"You okay?" Tony whispered.

Jethro nodded, "Yeah..." it came out in a rough, raw voice.

"Then why don't you try to sleep? I'll be here, watching over you."

"Okay...but you must sleep too..."

"Yep," Tony smiled weakly and watched as Jethro closed his eyes, and fell fast asleep within a few wasn't really surprising giving the exhausting experience he just had.

Tony stretched his back, not surprised when his muscles complained, and wondered for how long he had stayed there, unmoving as Jethro had clutched to him.

He wasn't aware he had talked aloud until a soft voice answered from behind his back, "It has been one hour and ten minutes."

Tony turned and saw Jackson Gibbs standing on the doorway, his lined face pale and more than a little shocked. For how long had he been standing there?

Tony stood up, happy he had worn his t-shirt and boxers to bed, and walked stiffly toward the older man, noting the way Jackson was looking at his sleeping son.

"Is he okay?" he asked softly when Tony stepped closer to him in the dimply lit hallway.

"I think so. I _hope_ so."

"What was it about? I heard a scream and came to see what was going on...Was it a nightmare?"

"Yes. He has been having them since he was released from the hospital," Tony said and was surprised to see Jackson' face frown in confusion. "You didn't know Jethro was at the hospital?"

Jackson shook his head, "No. Evidently none of his team members thought about calling me."

"But you are his father…"

"My son and I haven't been close for a long time," Jackson explained. "Up to two years ago, his team thought I was dead. They learned I was still around only when a case brought them to Stillwater. The only thing Director Vance told me was that I was under protection because Leroy had stepped on the wrong feet with his job. Now tell me, why was my son at the hospital? Why is he having nightmares? Was he shot?"

"No, Mr. Gibbs. It is worse," Tony said, reaching out with an arm, ready to support the older man should the shock be too much for him. "He was captured and tortured by Paloma Reynosa, the gentle lady that tried to kill you today. He was her prisoner for almost a month. Then, after she had her fun with him, she abandoned him in the desert to die."

"But he survived…" Jackson whispered, his blue eyes liquid with tears.

"Yes—but not unscathed. He has scars, both physical and mental."

"Hence the nightmares."

"Yes. He didn't have any for the past week, and we both thought the worst had passed. But I guess Reynosa's attack on you brought everything up once again," Tony said, looking at Jethro. "This one was worse than the others, but hopefully it will prove to be a breakthrough."

"Because he cried?" Jackson asked, studying his expression closely.

"Yes. As far as I know, he never did it before. Hopefully this release will help him to deal with his memories, and not just to suppress them."

"I understand," Jackson said softly. There was a long moment of silence, as they both looked at Jethro who, unaware of their scrutiny, keep on sleeping peacefully. Then the older man spoke again, his attention now turned on Tony, "You know, Leroy must really love you if he allows you to see him like this. My son had never liked to show any weakness, not ever when he was a child and came back with bleeding, scraped knees."

"I know," Tony replied. "This is why I feel like I'm privileged he allows me to help him. Of course, I would prefer all of this wasn't necessary, but since it is, I'm glad and grateful Jethro does trust me enough to feel it's safe to stop being the strong one around me."

Jackson stared at him for a while then nodded to himself. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, Tony."

"There is no need to apologize, Mr Gibbs...Jackson. This must be very shocking for you," Tony answered, feeling relieved that the older man was reacting far better than he had hoped after what had happened in the living room.

"It is, but still, I was out of line. I'm…happy Leroy has a good person like you at his side, but it will take me some time to get used to the idea," Jackson said with a weak smile.

"I guess it's natural—and none of us will make pressures or ask more than you can give," Tony reassured the older man.

"Good. Now, I think it would be best if we all go to sleep. We need to be sharp and alert with that woman still on the loose. We cannot allow her to kill us and thus to hurt Leroy another time," Jackson commented, his blue eyes hardening in a resolute gaze so similar to his son's as he offered his hand to Tony.

"You are absolutely right," Tony agreed as he took the offered hand and shook it, feeling far more confident about the outcome of their enforced cohabitation.

.

.

Well it looks like Jackson and Tony have a truce now, even if it will take longer for a true peace. As for Gibbs...well, the path to recovery is getting shorter, but he still has some road to cover. Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Thanks so much for the reviews!**

**IX**

The following weeks were uneventful for Gibbs and his team. Paloma Reynosa had vanished from their radars as quickly as she had appeared in Stillwater, leaving behind no traces of where she was heading.

Their contacts in Mexico had no reports about her crossing the border to return home—but since they had no reports of her leaving in the first place, what they knew could hardly be considered conclusive.

As for Alejandro Rivera, his ties with the Reynosa cartel had been exposed, but the Mexican government had taken no action against him. However, his official position made him easier to monitor, although nothing could be learned by his movements or connections. The man was being extra careful about what he did or who he talked to.

All of that left Gibbs very frustrated. He hated not knowing where his enemy was and what was she planning next. The attack on his father proved her threats about killing all the people he loved if he survived had been real. So he knew she would strike again but the problem was he had no idea of when or where or against whom. The only thing he could do was to keep his eyes open and be sure the people dearest to him where protected all the time. For the rest he could only wait, which wasn't exactly his forte.

The only positive note was that he had finally discovered why Rivera had never got the report about Pedro Hernandez's murder Abby had sent him. M. Allison Hart, as legal counsel for Mexican task force, had intercepted and blocked it.

She had told him when she had come to visit him, and brought the report with her.

"This is the bullet that should end you," she had said, as he had stared numbly at the report she had posed on his dinner table. "Do you think I want that?"

"I didn't ask you to stop it," he had said sincerely. From the moment he had seen Ducky pull the bullet out of Pedro Hernandez's corpse, Gibbs had been ready to face the consequences of his actions. Heck, he had been ready to face them right from the moment he refrained from putting a bullet in his own head, a fateful afternoon of nineteen years before, on a solitary beach near Oceanside.

Aside the fact he would have never done anything that could put Abby in trouble or ruin her career, he knew that even if that report had circulated, there wasn't much Rivera could have done against him. The prescriptive period for murder in Mexico was fourteen years, which meant Gibbs wasn't prosecutable. The only thing Rivera could have done was to put pressure on NCIS or the SECNAV or threaten to make the thing public. This would have probably ended with Gibbs' forced retirement. Something that would have pissed him to no end, but he would have coped with it, especially with Tony in his life.

Oh no, blocking the report or having Abby falsify the evidence had never crossed his mind, and he was saddened because of the danger Allison and her family were now in. It was easy to guess what Rivera or Reynosa would do if they discovered she had stopped the report.

"What do you want, Allison? A thank you? An apology?" Gibbs had asked a bit unkindly, wanting to cover his concern for her safety, but also determined to push her away from him. There had been attraction between them when they had first met, he couldn't deny it. It had been mutual, but it had ended on his part the moment he and Tony had started spending time together. But Allison had kept on popping up in his house uninvited, and there was no doubt in his mind her reasons to block the report had been dictated by her heart, not her mind.

"Why the hell not?" she had exclaimed, almost exasperated.

"Because I've got a...rule against it."

"Well, it's a stupid rule," she had retorted, buckling her bag. Gibbs could see the hurt in her eyes and he thought it was for the best.

"Maybe it is…" he had whispered, looking at her.

"I wanted to know who you were," Allison had said fiercely. "Who you are. As a person."

"I know...I know your intentions were good, but what you did was very risky. Alejandro Rivera is tied to Paloma Reynosa, the woman who had Colonel Bell killed. They are both Pedro Hernandez's children and they are out to get their vendetta against me. You and your family could be in danger if Rivera realizes what you did."

He had seen Allison pale. "Can't you arrest them?" she had asked. "For Merton Bell's murder?"

"We are trying to, but first we had to find them, and it's not easy. I would suggest you lay low for a while. Could not you go on vacation for a while?"

"I could," she had smiled. "But I think I'll do something else. I've received an offer to teach American Law in a prestigious European university. I wasn't planning to accept it—but I guess I will now. Will be six months enough for you to catch Alejandro and his sister?"

"Oh, I really hope so…" Gibbs had answered. "I really hope so."

Allison had left after that, just a few minutes before Tony and Jack had returned from a grocery trip, talking to each other as two old friends.

Gibbs smiled, because even if his work life was quite frustrating, his private life was much better.

After the first awkward encounter, things had gone smooth enough between Jack and Tony. The word 'whore' had never been mentioned again, Gibbs and Tony had refrained from kissing or exchanging intimate gestures while his father was around and could see them.

Jackson's initial reaction had never been addressed and more than once Gibbs caught him observing them, but since the looks seemed benign, he never pressed for a confrontation with his father.

And then, one evening, it just happened.

Tony was away for one of his periodical surprise inspections to his restaurant in Georgetown and Gibbs and his father were having dinner. They were eating in silence but it was a comfortable one.

Then Jackson pushed away his empty plate and asked, "Can we talk, Leroy? Now that Tony isn't here."

Gibbs nodded, "Yeah, it's about time we do it."

"Son, I know I didn't behave well when I first heard about you and Tony, but you've to understand it was quite a surprise for me." Gibbs nodded. "Of all of the things I had imagined happening to me, discovering my boy lived with another man wasn't among them."

"Well, yeah, Dad, you made it pretty clear," Gibbs commented. "And now?"

"Now, I've observed how you and Tony are together. How you move in that narrow kitchen of yours without getting in each other's way; how you often complete each other's lines; how he makes you laugh or at least smile even when you get home in a foul mood…" Jackson looked earnestly at his son, before adding, "How the look in your eyes is the same you had when you were with Shannon. Leroy, what I'm trying to say is that I can see you're both happy and care deeply for each other and well, even if I cannot deny I would have preferred if your partner was of a more canonical sort, so to speak, I'm glad you two found each other."

Gibbs grinned then, and reached out with his hand to touch the back of his father's. "Thank you, Dad. This means a lot to me…to Tony's too."

Jackson smiled too, turning his hand on the table to briefly squeeze his son's fingers. "You are welcome, Leroy. And now that we are done clearing the air, can I've a piece of that lemon cake we bought yesterday? I want to check if it tastes as good as it looks…"

**-x-**

Tony heard Jethro laugh another time and silently congratulated himself for his choice of that evening movie. "Clue", 1985, with Tim Curry, Madeline Kahn and Christopher Lloyd was proving to be as entertaining for his lover as he had hoped he would be.

Sitting on the couch with Jethro's arm resting lightly on his shoulder, Tony darted a look at Jackson, who was sitting on the armchair, and the two men exchanged a nod. There was an unspoken agreement between them about doing everything they could to make sure the time Jethro spent at home was as relaxing and pleasant as possible.

Paloma Reynosa was still on the loose despite all the efforts NCIS was making to locate her. Agents McGee and David had been sent to chase leads in Canada and Florida, but so far they had come up empty handed. As for Stan, the third member of team Gibbs, he had stayed in DC, working closely with his boss, as the two of them continued to investigate 'normal' crimes.

Yet, despite the continuous stress caused by not knowing where Reynosa was or what was she planning, Jethro was doing well. After the night his lover had woken up shaking and cried himself to sleep in Tony's arms, his nightmares had become very sporadic and, when they happened, they were far less intense than before. Tony thought it was a good thing, and Ducky agreed too. Slowly but surely, Jethro's mind and soul were healing.

When the movie ended, Jethro, Jackson and Tony moved upstairs to go to bed, but for the glint in lover's eyes, the younger man knew Gibbs Jr. wasn't yet ready to sleep. That realization made a thrill ran along Tony's spine.

Jethro's body had yet to heal, but he seemed to have accepted it remarkably well. Dr. Jensen had said the bruised and swollen tissues were doing better and that it was just a matter of time before Jethro would be able to get an erection. In the meantime, Jethro didn't shy away from intimacy. After a period during which he had refused to get rid of his boxers, as if he was ashamed of his flaccid member, now he got naked without hesitation—and often. Tony thought it was because Jethro had become more and more confident he was able to satisfy his lover despite his handicap—and boy, satisfy Tony he did! He had become extremely talented with his hands and mouth.

As for Jethro's own pleasure, it looked like his body was compensating for his inability get an erection and thus an orgasm, by making other areas far more sensitive to Tony's touches. It hadn't taken long for the younger man to discover what places gave more pleasure to his lover, and he had ruthlessly used that knowledge to make Jethro feel as good as possible.

As soon they were in their bedroom, the door closed behind them, Jethro put his gun, which he now always carried on him, even at home, on his bedside table and turned to face Tony with a lopsided grin.

"Uh-uh," Tony joked, "someone is feeling frisky this evening. Good!"

Jethro grinned and beckoned with his finger, "Come here."

Tony went, of course, accentuating the swing of his hips as he circled the bed, remembering well how Gunny's eyes had always zeroed on them when Tony been dancing on the _Sensual __Delights__'_ stage.

When they were standing one in front of the other, Jethro wrapped a hand around his nape and pulled him in for a kiss.

Jethro's lips captured his, but Tony was quick to turn the tables and take charge of the kiss, licking, nibbling and exploring with his tongue until his lover groaned and closed his eyes in bliss.

Tony pulled back with a smug smile, as his fingers slowly started unbuttoning Jethro's old denim shirt, as his lover watched him, his eyes warm and hooded.

The younger man pushed the halves of the shirt aside, baring the strong chest to his view, licking his lips as he tried to decide where to start his assault.

He began with his lips just drifting across Jethro's skin with the lightest touch, kissing randomly as his hands moved in smooth circles, his fingers combing through soft, silver chest hair.

Jethro threw his head back, and Tony took the opportunity to lick and nibble at his bared neck, as his fingers circled his lover's nipples. Tony knew the older man was extremely sensitive there, and so he took his time lightly pinching the hardened nubs, before bending down and attacking them with his lips and tongue, pleasurably tormenting them until he felt Jethro shake unable to stand more.

Tony straightened, and observed his lover, who already looked delicious debauched, with his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated.

"Clothes, off," he commanded, as he started to get rid of his t-shirt. Jethro followed suit, and soon they were both naked, with the older man sitting with his back against the headboard and Tony straddling him.

They kissed a bit more, as their hands roamed their sides and chests, then Jethro pulled back and asked throatily, "What do you want, Tony?"

"The usual...you," he replied, rubbing circles on his lover's belly, which was another thing Jethro liked quite a lot.

Jethro smirked, "You should have been more specific. No matter..." He used his hand to bend Tony's head down and pull him a hard, deep, expert kiss that left the younger man out of breath and dizzy with want.

When they separated, Jethro's hands began to roam along Tony's body, from his shoulders, to his chest, to his belly and finally down to his hard cock, which was leaving a path of pre-come on the older man's belly.

Tony moaned and his hands tightened on Jethro's shoulders as a calloused skilled hand began to pump him, languidly and without any hurry. His lover wanted to drag it out, and Tony was more than okay with that.

For a while Tony's breathing was the only sound heard in the room, as Jethro kept on milking him, while they looked intently in each other's eyes, telling with their gazes what their lips weren't saying.

_I love you...You're so gorgeous...Love seeing you like this, Tony...I want you, Jethro... _

Then the silence was interrupted by Jethro's low, rough voice, " Get up on your knees...give me room..."

Tony obeyed, using his hold on his lover's shoulder to help him to keep his balance, and soon a finger slick with his pre-come circled his hole, before slipping inside him.

"God," Tony groaned, throwing his head back, as the fingers began to move in and out of him, rubbing against his sensitive skin.

Then the finger pulled out completely, and when it plunged in again, it was joined by another.

"Good?" Jethro asked, his other hand still working on Tony's cock.

"Very," he whispered, as the pleasure mounted inside him.

A few seconds later a third finger joined the other two, and Tony began to fuck himself on them in earnest. He cried out when his prostate was brushed, and Jethro, being the all-observant man he was, didn't miss it. He changed the angle of his wrist and mercilessly used his fingers to rub and tap Tony's sweet spot.

Tony closed his eyes tightly as his body threatened to go in overload. He didn't know what he wanted to do more, push forward into Jethro's fist or rock backward onto his fingers. So he did both in turn, moving faster and faster the more he felt the tension coil in his belly and balls.

He came with a shout, spurting his seed across Jethro's abdomen, and then collapsed against his lover chest, as the hands that had pleasured him so ruthlessly, rose to draw soothing circles on his trembling back.

When he felt like he was able to move again, Tony pulled back and looked down at Jethro's satisfied face.

"Wow," he said simply and watched as the satisfaction transformed into smugness.

"That's what everyone tells me," Jethro commented.

Tony swatted him on his upper arm, and then he bent down to plant a gentle kiss on his lover's lips. It was then he became aware of something he hadn't noticed before.

He gazed up at Jethro, a mute question in his eyes, and received a nod in answer. Then both men looked down at Jethro's groin where, against its nest of wiry curls, his cock was showing the first signs of an erection.

"Well, well, well," Tony commented with a smile and a caress to the already softening member, "look who is finally deciding it's time to join the play."

Then he raised his head and cupped Jethro's face. "You see, it won't be much longer before you'll be up to your old self again, and when it happens..."

"Yes?" Jethro prompted, turning his face to kiss Tony's palm.

"It will be a glorious night. Or morning. Or afternoon—or all of three," he completed with big grin, before slumping again in Jethro's embrace to bask a bit longer in the afterglow.

.

I hope you enjoyed the hot action! Let e knoe what you think!


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**X**

The following morning Tony and Jethro were sitting at the table, sipping coffee. Outside of the window they could see Agents Leigh, Merrick, and another guy whose name Tony couldn't remember, patrolling the house.

The two men were quiet, simply enjoying each other company, and feeling no need to break the silence with idle chatter.

Jackson came out of the kitchen carrying two plates filled with food. He put them down on the table and pushed them toward his son and Tony.

"I thought we'd try some ham today," he commented as he sat down in front of the younger men. "I hope those eggs aren't overcooked."

"You don't have to make breakfast for us every day, Dad," Jethro said gently, as he looked down at his plate. Tony knew his lover's usual breakfast consisted in coffee – at least two cups— and cereal with milk. He wasn't used to eating so much first thing in the morning.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Jackson admonished." Gets your batteries charged."

"Mm-hmm. Mom used to say that," Jethro commented, and Tony found himself wondering what kind of woman she had been. He began to eat his eggs and ham, while father and son continued to talk.

"Thought I'd do some errands today," Jackson said. "Fix that faucet upstairs. Anything you or Tony need?"

Jethro turned to look at the younger man, who shook his head.

"No. Wish you'd take the agents with you," the older man replied to his father's question.

"Do I really need those guys?"

"They're good men, Dad."

"I've been living in this house under lock and key for two months now. They've never done a damn thing," Jackson protested, and Tony had to suffocate a smile at his slightly petulant tone.

"You're lucky you're not dead," Jethro replied.

"I'm lucky there was a storm cellar Agent Merrick and I could hide out in," Jackson retorted. Then he added in a softer tone, "Son...I want to go home. It's time."

Tony heard the plea in Jackson's voice and his heart went to the older man. He could understand how Jackson was feeling. Jethro had his job, Tony his seminars and meetings with his publisher about the tell-all book he was writing, but Jackson had nothing. He was away from his home, his store, his friends and the town where he had spent his whole life. No wonder he was feeling lonely, bored and full of nostalgia.

Tony also understood Jethro's desire, no, need to keep his father close to him, and thus it wasn't a surprise when his lover stood up, picking up his gun and closed the topic with a resolute, "When it's safe."

Then Jethro walked away, leaving behind an untouched plate of ham and egg and a very discouraged old man.

**-x-**

Hours later Gibbs walking towards a clearing in West Virginia, where a reservist captain turned pilot had been found dead. Burley, Ducky and Palmer where following, talking between them.

Gibbs only half listened to their voices, his mind lost in thought. Leon had assigned this case to them after they had discussed their progress – or rather, lack of – of their hunt for Paloma Reynosa, and his gut hadn't stopped churning since then. He had the feeling something was going to happen soon, and he hoped to be right. His father wasn't the only one getting fed up with the situation. He too was getting tired of going to sleep with his gun under the pillow or having to worry every time Tony or his father went somewhere. He wanted to put an end to this whole Mexican mess—possibly a good one. And he wanted it to be soon.

They finally reached the field where a big black helicopter was parked, apparently undamaged.

"For an emergency landing, this helicopter's surprisingly intact," Burley commented.

"Landing's not what killed them," a local LEO answered as he joined them.

"Them? As in more than one them? Palmer interjected.

"Captain John McMahon, owned and piloted the charter service," the LEO explained, as they stopped near the body of thirty-something man with short cropped dark hair. "Around 2:00 a.m. this morning, he was in the middle of a job when he, uh, reported mechanical trouble. Then he made a Mayday and set her down here. That was the last anybody heard from him."

"Based on the blood flow pattern, the real trouble wasn't midair," Ducky observed, "The captain was shot here on the ground."

"Got another gunshot wound over here, Doctor," Palmer called.

"There's a nine-millimeter casing in the grass, Boss," Burley said, as he snapped photos of the casing before bagging and tagging it.

".45 next to the pilot," Gibbs replied, spotting a another casing.

It looked like Captain McMahon and the other man, probably his passenger, had shot each other. But why?

"You got a passenger manifest?" Gibbs asked to the LEO, who shook his head.

"No, sir. No route logged, either."

Gibbs walked closer to the helicopter as Burley began, "Middle of the night, somebody hired this guy on the QT."

"So, after the Mayday," Gibbs continued, as he examined the cockpit, "the passenger couldn't risk talking to the police, so he shot McMahon. He didn't expect him to shoot back."

"Wait a minute, where are the guns?" asked Palmer, giving voice to the question that had bugged Gibbs since they had found the casings.

Checking the cockpit in search of anything useful, he now saw an empty holster, which could belong to McMahon, but, more importantly an inboard camera pointed toward the passengers' seats.

"Eye in the sky," Stan commented, snapping a photo to it.

"Record his flights. Must've had more than a few bad customers."

Gibbs used a pen to push the 'play' button of the camera monitor and then the video appeared on the small screen, he understood why his gut had been churning.

There, sitting between the dead guy in the field and JP Dean, was Paloma Reynosa.

He felt a shiver run along his spine upon seeing her again, and he didn't know if it was caused by the memories of seeing her were stirring, or by the excitement of having, finally, found her. Probably it was a bit of both.

"That's her," he said to his senior agent. There was no need to add more.

"Doc, got a time a death?" Gibbs asked to Ducky as he mentally compiled a list of the steps he needed to make and the orders he needed to issue.

"Approximately... nine hours ago."

"Burley, local airports on alert," Gibbs order to the younger man as he started walking toward their car. "Call Vance, tell him we need agents at the state border."

"Where do you figure Ms. Reynosa's headed, Jethro?" Ducky asked as Gibbs strode past him.

"I don't know, Duck. But I'd sure like to get there first."

He shivered again and this time he knew it wasn't caused by fear, but by excitement. Finally, after months spent spinning around empty, they had a lead. He was just sorry for McMahon had to pay with his life for it, but if Gibbs could have his way, the captain would be Paloma Reynosa' last victim.

**-x-**

Tony and Jackson exchanged a concerned look as they watched Jethro enter the living room carrying some logs of wood. The silver haired man had been very quiet during dinner, and his gaze had been distant, as if he was miles away from that house.

"Want some help?" Jackson asked when his son knelt to put the wood in the fireplace.

"Are you all right?" Added Tony, when Jethro failed to reply.

"Yeah, I'm fine," his lover answered, not looking up at them. "Why?"

"Your head isn't here, and we saw the agents checking their weapons a while back," Jackson explained.

"Something is up, isn't it, Jethro?" pressed Tony, his eyes scanning the older man for any clue of what it might be.

A slight pause, then, "Paloma's back. She surfaced about 300 miles away. Got no sense where she's headed yet."

Tony and Jackson exchanged another, more concerned look, both of them wondering how that woman's return was affecting Jethro.

"Coming here, I imagine," Jackson said, walking closer to his son, and the younger Gibbs stroked the fire with a poker. "Your instincts were right. Sorry I doubted you."

Jethro smiled, to both Jackson and Tony. "Been rough on everybody, Dad."

_Yeah_, thought Tony as he smiled back at his lover, _but on you more than everybody else. Will you wake up screaming tonight?_

"When this is over, why don't you boys come back to Stillwater with me, help me fix up the store?" offered Jackson with a smile. "It's all boarded up, and I could use four extra hands."

Tony perked up immediately at the invitation. He longed to see Jethro's hometown, the places where he had played as a kid and that had shaped him while he was growing up, making him decide to join the Marines as soon as he turned eighteen.

Jethro, however, didn't seem as enthusiastic of the idea. "I got a job to do," he answered evasively.

"Well, the job can wait," Jackson insisted, and turned to look at Tony, as if he was willing the younger man to say something to convince his son.

However, Tony didn't have the time to say anything, because in that moment the screen door in the kitchen creaked and Jethro pulled his gun out of the waistband of his trousers. He signaled Tony and Jackson to move away from the kitchen as he advanced toward it, holding his gun in front of him.

Tony watched holding his breath as his lover crossed the dining room to face the intruder. It was the first time he saw Jethro move and behave like the warrior he was deep inside, and he found it both scaring and arousing.

Jethro had just reached the kitchen doorway when he lowered his gun. "Is there something wrong with the front door?" he asked in an exasperated tone.

"Wouldn't have been much of a surprise, then," a tall man with graying hair and a goatee answered.

"How'd you get past the agents?" Jackson asked, clearly worried someone could slip so easily inside the house he – and Tony too – had considered safe.

"Dad, Tony, meet Mike Franks," Jethro said putting away the gun. "He was my first boss at NCIS."

_Ah,_ thought Tony, _studying the newcomer with interest, this is the guy Jethro went to help in Mexico, the one reputed dead. Well, evidently he wasn't dead. Good for him—and for Jethro, he is so happy. He needed some good news now that the damned woman resurfaced_.

Tony watched as Jethro and Franks walked down in the basement to talk in private, but leaving the door opened all the same.

"I'm going to bed," Jackson said picking up his cane. "This was enough excitement for me, and I guess we'll need to be extra sharp now that woman is back."

"You are right, Jackson. Goodnight."

"Let's hope it is—for all of us, but especially for Leroy."

"Yeah…" Tony murmured as he watched the older man walk away. When he was alone, he moved closer to the basement door, hoping to hear what the two men downstairs were saying. He wasn't especially proud to be eavesdropping on them, but he wanted to make sure his lover and his old mentor weren't planning something risky or stupid, such as chasing Reynosa by themselves, like two lone rangers. Tony didn't think it was the case, but an old Italian saying said it was better be prudent than sorry—and so he listened.

"You got yourself in a heap of trouble, messing with the wrong _familia_," Franks was saying. "There's some big guns after you down there- up here. Sweet little Paloma's got a hornet up her skirt...and her sights are set on revenge. Think I'd miss that?" Tony detected a hint of irony in the man's tone.

"Dangerous," Jethro commented.

"Do what you have to for family," came the calm, sincere reply, and Tony's liking for Mike Franks increased by a couple of notches with just that line.

"What rule is that?" Jethro teased.

"The unspoken one."

The two men laughed, and then Franks said, "Speaking of family, who is the guy upstairs? A friend?"

"A friend…and more. He's my partner, Mike. He lives here," Jethro answered simply, and the quiet conviction in his tone made Tony's stomach flutter.

"I'll be damned, Probie, but this is a surprise...but perhaps not so unexpected, now that I think of it," Franks replied.

"What do you mean?" Jethro asked, also voicing Tony's question.

"Remember when you first started working for me, back in Camp Pendleton?"

"Yeah."

"Well, in those days every time you spotted a certain kind of guy, you stared at him with a strange look."

"What kind of guy?"

"Young, tall, lithe...brownish hair, good looking. They all looked like Tony upstairs...but younger."

Tony heard Jethro laugh softly before he said, "I was looking for him."

The younger man's eyes widened in shock and before he knew what he was doing, he stepped into the banister and exclaimed, "What?"

Jethro didn't seem surprised by his appearance; perhaps he had known or suspected from the start Tony or his father or both had been standing upstairs, listening. Maybe he had even left the door open on purpose.

"I told you that I looked for you after I returned from last mission as Marine in Colombia and that Cassie told me you had left Oceanside."

"Yeah, I remember."

"What I didn't say, is that I didn't completely trust her. I knew Cassie didn't like me, and didn't put it past her to lie to me. So, well, I kept looking for you in the crowds for a while. I thought you might still be in town even if you no longer worked at her place. Until I understood you had really gone and stopped looking for you," Jethro explained.

Tony nodded. That bit of information made him feel both happy and sad. Happy because it meant Gunny hadn't forgotten him quite as soon as Cassie had implied he would have, sad because it was too late to do anything about it. And in any case, as Jethro had said a few months ago, back then he hadn't be ready for another relationship—with Tony or anybody else, just as his divorces had proved.

"You still here?" a beloved voice asked very close to him and Tony saw with surprise Jethro was standing in front of him. How had he managed to step up the stairs without him noticing it?

"Uh, sorry," Tony said bashfully, looking down at his shoes. "I was caught up in memories."

"Good ones?"

"Yeah."

"Let's go to bed now," Jethro murmured and Tony nodded.

"But no monkey business," Franks admonished as he walked past them. "I had a long day, and I don't want to be kept awake by you two. The master bedroom is located over the living room, just in case you have forgotten."

"We haven't Mike," Jethro said, putting an arm around Tony's shoulder and leading him toward the stairs, "and don't worry, we will be quiet...Tony, me and the monkey."

.

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I hope you liked this. As usual, I did stick close to the canon because I like to that. Let me know what you think.


	13. Chapter 13

**XI**

The next day Gibbs went to work in a positive frame of mind. He had always been good at handling pressures and long waits, and this wasn't different. True, the previous night it had taken him a while to calm his thoughts enough to go to sleep, but after he had, his rest had been uninterrupted, with no nightmares. The discovery Mike was still alive and his girls safe had been a major boost, and made him even more determined to catch Paloma Reynosa.

Gibbs arrived in the lab in time to see Abby ask to the agent guarding her, an opinion about her choice of collars, but she immediately dropped the two strips of leather and metal when she spotted him.

In a blink of an eye, Abby wrapped Gibbs in a rib-crushing hug that left him no choice but stay still and wait for her explanation—which didn't take long to come.

"I thought you could use a hug, Gibbs. You know, you always hug me when I feel down or need some comfort. I thought you could use some comfort after that horrible woman's return. Must be hard for you to know she is near after what she did to you and tried to do to your dad. But don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. I'll protect you," Abby said with a fierce expression on her face.

Gibbs smiled as he disentangled himself from her arms, "Aren't those supposed to be my lines?" he replied.

"Usually they would be, but not now. You know I can kill without any evidence, and I would be happy to give a demonstration of my skills to Paloma Reynosa."

"Then you should be careful not announce your plans in front of witnesses," Gibbs joked, tilting his head toward her guard.

Abby dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand, "After three months spent guarding me, I'm pretty sure Darren would offer to help me, if it meant he could return to his normal life."

Gibbs shook his head with fondness, and then sobered. It was time for work. "You got something for me?" he asked stepping closer to her work station.

"I've got a lot," Abby answered, gesturing with her hands as usual. "I analyzed everything in Estaban Lopez's G.I. tract, and based on major mass spec's icky findings, Ducky was right. Paloma and her men were eating their way through the South." She recalled a series of graphics on the plasma screen and explained, "I found traces of blue crab, salt pork, alligator-all local proteins and all suggesting a food trail that leads from Mississippi to around the Florida panhandle."

"They are moving," Gibbs commented as he digested the information.

"Yeah, but that's just how long food stays in the human body. By analyzing the healing progression of Lopez's various bug bites, which range from a Virginia chigger to a mosquito that's indigenous to the Everglades, I was able to track his movements three months." An US map appeared with several highlighted dots replaced the graphic on the plasma. "Now, assuming that they were together, it looks like Paloma's been on a mission."

"Those are drug routes," Gibbs said when Abby connected the dots.

"Yeah, she wants to make sure that her product is well-distributed throughout the East Coast."

"She wants us to see that her business is better than ever," he concluded and was about to leave her lab, when Abby blocked his path.

"Look, um, Gibbs, I know that we should arrest her, but in jail or not, she knows things about you, like dangerous things. I mean, even if you don't want to use my skills, I think we need a plan," she said quickly, her worry clear in her voice.

"Yeah, I got one, Abbs," he answered her as kissed her cheek before going away.

In truth he had more than one, depending on how the situation would evolve, but at the moment he wasn't ready to reveal any of them.

**-x-**

During lunch break Gibbs made a quick trip home to check up on his father, Tony and Mike.

The situation was evolving rapidly. A drug dealer had just been killed in Maryland and his car stolen. Gibbs and Vance both believed it was Paloma's handiwork, which meant she was getting closer to him and his family.

Vance had wanted to move him, his father and Tony to a safe house, but Gibbs had refused, claiming his house was safe. He didn't want to be put in the sidelines under lock and key as someone else fought his battles.

Leon had also expressed his concern that Mike's return could make things worse than they already were, and while Gibbs had reassured him things couldn't get any worse, he now wanted to make sure his hot-head friend wasn't planning on doing something stupid.

As things went, Gibbs arrived at home just in time to listen to Mike trying to enlist his Dad and Tony in his scheming, whatever it was.

"Eh, don't listen to him, Dad, Tony," he commented as he trotted down the basement stairs. Tony was working on his book, typing with two fingers on his laptop, while his father was giving the finishing touches to the wooden toy house he had been building.

"Jethro, what he's saying makes sense," Jackson said, while Tony stayed silent, but listened intently.

"Thanks, Mike," Gibbs commented ironically.

"I've got an opinion; they've got a right to hear it," Mike defended himself.

"Yeah, well, hard to take a guy seriously who keeps getting body parts blown off," Gibbs returned and saw Tony stifle a laugh.

He looked down at his father when he felt a slight touch on his hand. "When is this woman coming? Let's end this. Not just for me, for everyone," Jackson said quietly.

Gibbs looked at him in silence. His father had never questioned him about why Paloma Reynosa was so dead set to hurt him or his people. He had just accepted the situation and soldiered on. But now it was clear he was getting close to a breaking point.

Aside for the time he had served as pilot during the war, Jackson had never spent so much time away from Stillwater and his store. Contrary to his son, who couldn't wait to leave, Jackson loved their small hometown and its citizens. He liked to know everything that went on with the others, to talk with his customers and drink with his friends. Being trapped inside the house for months, with only sporadic trips to the grocery store to break the isolation was not for him, and the strain was starting to show.

Gibbs had been aware of it for a while. He had seen the signals, the restlessness, the vacant eyes, the wishful looks. But, up to now, there had been nothing he could do, because letting his father return to Stillwater with Paloma still on the loose, hadn't been an option.

Now, however, things had changed and with a bit of luck, Gibbs would be able to put an end to all of this mess.

Soon.

**-x-**

It was already dark when Gibbs walked arm in arm with Abby in the NCIS parking lot. They had all stayed in the office longer than expected, trying to understand the reasons behind Alejandro Rivera's unexpected and unwelcome visit that afternoon.

Allegedly, he had come to offer a diplomatic compromise: Paloma's extradition to Mexico in exchange of detailed information about the Reynosa' cartel new drug pipeline across the US.

Neither Gibbs or Vance had believed that was Rivera's only motive, not after the look of pure hate the Mexican had given Gibbs when he had commented on the older man's 'good spirits in such stressful situation'.

So they had swept Vance's office for bugs, and found one hidden beneath the chair Rivera had sat on. They had quickly decided to leave it where it was, thinking it might turn useful at a later time.

"I wish I had never gone to Mexico," Abby ranted as they walked toward her little, weird, red car. "Never offered to help Alejandro. I wish I had never finished that damn report.

"He's just trying to get inside your head, Abbs," Gibbs advised, although he too was having her same problem. He was racking his brain trying to guess what Paloma's next move would be.

"Oh, he is inside my head, Gibbs, and he's making himself right at home."

"Not going to let anything happen to you," he said, trying to reassure her, but all if his best intention when down the drain when he saw Ducky walking quickly toward him holding something in his hand.

"Jethro, I'm glad I caught you," his friend exclaimed as he was close. "Look at this."

He showed Gibbs what looked like a doll carved in wood.

"That's a Mexican Day of the Dead doll," Abby explained, her grip tightening on Gibbs' forearm.

"Precisely- Day of the Dead," stressed Ducky, "and I just found it neatly tucked against my windshield."

"I've got one, too," Abby said as she spotted a similar doll on her car.

Gibbs scanned the parking lot looking for something, for anything as he felt rage mount inside him. Reynosa or Rivera had just left a threatening message against the most defenseless members of his team, his two closest friends. It spoke of cowardice, but also of how well the two siblings knew him.

His phone rang, and Gibbs took the call, without bothering to check the caller ID, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Don't look forward to the day you stop suffering because when it comes, you'll know you're dead," a voice who could never forget told him.

Gibbs felt a shiver run along his spine. He was chilled by hearing her, but his fears wasn't for himself—it was for Ducky and Abby, and all the persons he loved and that made his life worth living.

"Got more Tennessee Williams for me, Paloma?" he replied, hiding his true feeling behind sarcasm. He couldn't let her sense how much she had affected him.

Reynosa chuckled, another unpleasant sound he remembered from the endless days he had spent in her 'playroom'.

"You remember how much I enjoy his work, Gibbs. I hope you are enjoying mine," she said, ending the call.

_What __did __she __mean?__What __work?_ Gibbs thought frantically, as he speed-dialed McGee's number.

"McGee."

"Trace my last incoming call," Gibbs ordered as he walked toward his car.

"On it."

As he impatiently waited for McGee's answer, Gibbs told Darren, Abby's guard, to stay close to her and Ducky. "Give me a location," he then urged McGee.

"Locking onto the signal. It's right outside your house," McGee answered, the worry in his voice unmistakable.

"Get a hold of the agents detailed to Tony and my dad!" Gibbs shouted as he ran to his car and getting in it.

"Boss, it's… it's just ringing. They're not picking up."

"Get Burley, get Ziva, get 'em there now, go!"

Gibbs closed the call and started the engine, rushing out of the parking.

As he drove toward his home, breaking speed-limits and ignoring red traffic-lights, Gibbs adamantly refused to let his thoughts wander on what he would do if Paloma had harmed Tony and his dad—or worse. He refused to think what would be of him or his life if the two most important people in it were ripped away from him—again.

He concentrated only in getting there in shortest possible time and in one piece.

Once arrived, Gibbs jumped down of his car even before it was completely still. There was no sign of the three agents guarding the house, and the front door was open.

Gun in hand, he entered inside, advancing cautiously, eyes and ears ready to catch every movement, every noise.

He had reached the kitchen when he heard the door of the basement open. Leaving his cover he jumped out, ready to confront Paloma—but ended up scaring his father almost to death when the older man found himself face to face with his son's gun. Mike and Tony were behind Jackson, both of them unharmed.

"What's wrong, son?" His Dad asked when he recovered from his fright. "We were down in the basement."

The kitchen door slammed open and Ziva appeared, gun in hand.

"Where are the agents?" Gibbs asked her.

"One is dead, the other two injured. Paramedics are on the way. Stan's putting out a BOLO on Paloma," she reported, as together they made another sweep of the ground floor.

"You mean she was here?" Tony asked, his green eyes wide with shock.

Gibbs nodded, as his eyes spotted a doll similar to those found by Abby and Ducky posed on his bookshelf in the living room.

"Why didn't she just finish the job?" Jackson asked, his voice an octave too high than his usual. His father was scared, and he wasn't the only one. Even Mike looked a tad whiter in the face.

"Because she's not done yet," Gibbs answered, as he realized what she was doing.

She was torturing him—again. This time the torment wasn't physical but psychological, but the purpose was the same. She wanted to make him suffer before killing him, but Gibbs would be damned if he allowed her to do the same with his father, who even now was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the doll, while Tony watched him worriedly.

It was time to end it—and end it he would.

**XII**

Tony's hands were shaking as he poured himself a generous shot of Jethro's bourbon. He didn't usually drink such strong stuff, but tonight he needed some liquid courage.

The idea Paloma Reynosa had shot the three agents and been inside the house without him, Jackson and Mike being aware of any of it was very unsettling. Even more unsettling was knowing why that damned woman had done it.

He didn't need a degree in psychology to know she had done it torture to Jethro, to show him no one was safe if she was around. She was playing like a cat with a mouse and Tony hated to know he was one of the pawns of her game.

Turning around, he saw Jackson sitting in the armchair, still staring at the bookshelf where Paloma had left her doll. Mike instead was outside, smoking. Jethro was the calmest of the group. He looked deep in thought as he wrapped a black cloth band around his badge, to honor Agent Merrick's sacrifice.

When he was done, Jethro raised his head and gestured Tony to come closer. He did, sitting down on the couch near his lover. Jethro gave him a brief kiss, then said, "Dad, Tony, I can stop this. But I'm gonna need your help."

Tony and Jackson looked at each other and exchanged a brief nod. As usual as when they thinking about what was best for Jethro, they were on the same page.

"Whatever it takes," Jackson answered, his eyes finally alive again.

"Tony?" Jethro prompted, looking at him.

"Whatever it takes," he echoed, looking straight at his lover's eyes.

"Okay," Jethro replied with a nod. "Let's go fishing."

He stood up and without saying another world, he went outside, probably to talk with Franks.

Tony and Jackson exchanged another glance and the older man smiled humorlessly, "Well son, I guess we are about to discover what worms feel like when they are used as bait."

**-x-**

The next morning Jethro's plan was put in motion.

First of all, it was made sure that the news he was moving his father and Tony to the NCIS safe house in Church Creek would 'accidentally' leak to Alejandro Rivera.

Then, when it was confirmed Rivera had taken the bait and was informing his sister of the new development, Jethro, Jackson Tony and Mike left the younger Gibbs' house. They took care to be 'accidentally' seen by the eyes they were pretty sure were spying on them on their way to the car.

They travelled to Church Creek, Maryland, hid in a secluded area near the safe house, and waited for the net to close around the two Mexican siblings.

Tony knew that back in DC, Director Vance was throwing the last hook: he was making Rivera believe Paloma had been killed in a gunfight at the Church Creek safe house, by making the Mexican 'accidentally' see a private note reporting her death, and by blocking Rivera's call toward his sister's phone.

By late afternoon, Stan Burley and Ziva David joined them in the waiting, confirming that Paloma had taken the bait, and was driving toward Church Creek at that very moment. It was impossible to know if she was alone or travelling with JP Dean, the man who had shot Mike's finger off and helped her to torture Jethro, but whatever the case, Tony's lover plan had worked.

He had managed get her where he wanted her to be. It was his game now, not hers, and he was determined to win it.

Darkness had already fallen when Reynosa and Dean arrived. Jethro told his agents to take position near the house, but to don't anything until Rivera arrived too. He wanted to catch all of them.

However, when Rivera arrived shortly afterward, he did something Jethro hadn't predicted. Or better, he had predicted the man would come set to avenge his sister, but he hadn't expected Alejandro would open fire from outside the house with a heavy automatic weapon.

As things went, Rivera had already riddled the building with bullets by the time Burley and Ziva arrested him.

It was only then that Jethro stepped into the clearing, followed by Tony, Mike and Jackson.

Tony walked close to Jethro, wanting to see who was this man who had just shown such hate toward his lover. He watched as Jethro threw the doll Paloma had left in the dirt right in front of Rivera's face.

Then the cuffed man was pulled up and an incredulous expression appeared on his face as he saw Jethro.

"Gibbs? No, they said you were in there," he said, almost babbling.

"Nobody said we were inside _this_ safe house," Jethro retorted calmly.

"You killed my sister."

Jethro didn't answer. He just stared at Rivera until the truth dawned in the younger man's eyes. Then he walked toward the house, followed by Tony and Rivera himself.

Mike had already reached the building, and was standing by the doorway, his gun arm lowered by his side. Tony and Jethro stepped into the house, looking at the scene in front of their eyes.

Two bodies, a man and a woman, where lying among pieces of shattered glass and splinters of wood. The man was probably dead, but the woman was still alive.

Tony and Gibbs moved away as Ziva led Rivera to Paloma's side. Tony watched as Alejandro knelt near his dying sister, begging for her forgiveness.

His throat was tight as he observed the woman trying to comfort her brother and for a moment he felt pity for them.

But it was only for a moment, because this was the woman that had brutalized Jethro, and that had caused the strong man of his lover to wake up screaming night after night, that had made him impotent, that had tried to kill Jackson and murdered Agent Merrick.

This woman deserved the same pity she had shown toward her victims— meaning, none at all.

Thus Tony turned on his heels and walked out of the house without looking back.

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More to come soon :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you so much for the reviews!**

**Epilogue**

**July 4th, 2011**

Tony was standing near the back porch doorway, looking at the crowded backyard. Their guests had finished arranging the long table and they were now waiting, some patiently, some less so, for the main course to be ready.

In front of the grill, Jethro was working efficiently as his usual, pouring beer over half-cooked steaks. And hamburgers. And sausages. And chicken…added to the dishes each of their guests had brought, they had enough food to feed a small army.

Tony smiled when Ziva threatened to spray Stan with the garden hose if he didn't stop complaining about his ulcer and snorted when Abby slapped Tim and Jimmy's hands, stopping them from stealing strawberries from atop the cake she had made while Ducky looked on, indulgently. Everyone was having a good time and it filled him with warmth and satisfaction, because it has been his idea to invite everyone.

He had wanted to celebrate their first Fourth of July as couple in the traditional way, which meant with family and friends. Jethro had agreed, even if this would actually be the second time they celebrated the day as partners.

Both Tony and his lover remembered the first time they had celebrated, in a Bethesda Hospital room, with chicken sandwiches and black coffee. It hadn't been the best of lunches, but it had been very special all the same.

Unbidden, Tony's memory returned to the previous summer. He remembered his anxiety after Jethro had disappeared in Mexico and the horror of discovering his lover had been tortured for weeks. He remembered the nights he had been awoken by Jethro's terrified screams, and the impotency caused by the blows his lover had received in his groin area. He remembered Jackson's first reaction upon discovering who Tony was and his past profession and the weeks spent trapped together inside the house, waiting for Paloma Reynosa to strike.

They had been very stressful months and Tony knew the strain those events had left on everybody could have very well ruined the young relationship between him and Jethro. Instead, they had exited from those events even more certain of their feelings for each other.

Tony smiled broadly as, predictably, his mind recalled his favorite memory of the past summer and autumn.

.

_Tony followed Jethro inside his lover's old room in Stillwater and blessed the fact that, somewhere along the years, Jackson had replaced the single bed where young Leroy had slept with a double one. While at any other time he wouldn't have any problem in sleeping in a single bed with Jethro, tonight he longed for some comfort. _

_They had spent the whole day down in the store, working hard to repair the damage caused by Paloma Reynosa's attack months before and now their muscles – or at least, Tony's muscles – were tired and sore. He was aching in places he didn't even know he could ache._

_Since they had already showered before dinner, the only things they needed to do were to brush their teeth and strip down, both of which were done rather quickly. _

_Tony signed happily as Jethro spooned behind him, his right arm wrapping around his waist._

"_We covered a lot of work today," Jethro murmured against his nape, as his hand slipped beneath the t-shirt to caress Tony's belly. "We should be done by tomorrow evening. After that, we'll have a couple of days to play tourists in town and around the countryside before I have to get back to DC."_

_Tony smiled and twisted his neck to kiss Jethro's lips. He had meant it to be gentle and brief, but his lover took control of it, turning it into a hard, passion-filled one. Despite his sore muscles, Tony felt his body responding, to both the kiss and the hand still rubbing his belly. _

_Jethro, of course, felt it and his hand moved down to palm his hardening cock. In automatic response, Tony first thrust against the hand in front of him and then rocked back, pushing his ass against his lover._

_Tony froze in surprise. Was it…?_

"_Something wrong, Tony?" Jethro asked him, his voice rough._

"_No," Tony teased, "I was just trying to decide if you're really happy to see me or if you brought your crowbar into bed." He reached back with his hand, slipped it between their bodies and inside his lover's boxers, and grinned silly when his fingers closed around Jethro's thick, hard cock._

"_What do you want to do, Tony?" Jethro whispered, "do you want me to ignore it and let you sleep or-"_

"_Shhh, don't ever say anything like that!" Tony exclaimed, rising to a sitting position, his hand still inside Jethro's underwear. "It has just returned! If it feels unwelcome, it might decide to go away again, and who knows when it will be back!" He stroked the erection in his grip a bit more, just to make sure it wasn't deflating._

_Jethro laughed and Tony joined him when he felt the turgid organ in his hand harden even more._

"_I think we don't need to worry…" Jethro commented, his voice already breathy with need. It wasn't surprising given his inability to find pleasure in the past three months._

_Had Tony had any reservation at making love that evening – which he hadn't – they would have vanished upon hearing that voice. He pulled out his hand from Jethro's boxers and quickly removed his clothes. His lover pushed back the covers before imitating him. In a few minutes they were both naked, staring at each other's body as if it was a meal they wanted to devour._

"_Do you have everything?" Tony asked._

"_Yep…I put it here after our arrival, in the hope we would get lucky…" Jethro answered, pulling a condom and the lube out of the bedside table drawer. _

_Tony licked his lips and murmured, "My last blood tests, the ones I took just to be extra careful, came out negative. I'm clean. So if you want…" he tilted his head to indicate the condom. He had dreamed of being taken by Jethro without any barrier between them, but didn't want to force the issue if the older man was uncomfortable with the idea._

_Jethro's eyes darkened with lust as his cock seemed to grow even harder. Without saying a word, he threw the condom back in the drawer and pulled Tony closer._

_The room seemed to get hotter when their chests brushed each other's and their lips met in a forceful kiss, which ignited every nerve in Tony's body. Jethro groaned softly and the sound left Tony desperate for air._

_They both pressed closer, and Jethro wrapped one arm around Tony's shoulders, tugging on the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss._

_Jethro's body was trembling, a fine, almost unnoticeable thing - or perhaps it was his own body trembling, Tony couldn't be sure. The only thing he knew was that he was reaching the precipice far sooner than usual and that he and his lover needed to move on or Tony would end up coming just from kissing._

_Jethro seemed to sense it and rolled him onto his back on the bed. He covered Tony's body with his own and began to explore him with his mouth and his hands, as he wanted to make sure he still remembered all of the younger man most sensitive places._

_And he did, oh how well he remembers them, Tony thought, his hands moved restlessly along Jethro's back. A moment later, the older man pinched both his nipples at the same time, with just a hint of nails, and Tony cried out, nearly coming._

"_Stop... too much... Can't..." he reached down between their bodies and, finding his cock, he squeezed hard at its base, staving off his orgasm. _

"_Need you now, Jethro..." he panted, caressing his lover's cheek. "Right now or I won't last..." And just to make sure Jethro understood his urgency, he pumped the older man's cock hard with his other hand. One, two, three times in quick succession, something he knew never failed to stroke Jethro's fire._

_His lover grabbed the lube from where he had put it before and squeezed a generous amount of it on his fingers._

"_Yes..." Tony whispered. He brought his knees up and spread himself widely, wantonly. "Please, Jethro...now..." _

"_Patience..." the older man replied, but by the way his hand was shaking and by how much his cock was leaking, Tony knew Jethro was reaching the end of his own endurance. As things were, it would a miracle if they didn't both come the very moment Jethro pushed inside._

_The younger man lay, sprawled wide, watching with hooded eyes as Jethro worked his opening, stretching it. And finally, his lover raised Tony's hips and with a well aimed thrust he sunk in to the hilt._

_Tony cried out and grabbed the sheets with his fingers, struggling not to come. Jethro pumped slowly, his eyes watching the play of muscles across the broad chest as Tony moved restlessly against the rhythm of his strokes. _

"_Love you..." Tony panted out, his eyes locking with Jethro's._

"_Love you too..." Jethro whispered back, his movements speeding up._

"_Come in me...fill me...make me yours..." Tony urged, as he started to stroke his own cock, unable to resist a second more._

_Jethro groaned aloud and pumped harder, faster and Tony applied the same rhythm on his cock, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Jethro's face, watching it grow tense with pain-need-want and then go slack with pleasure as his body shuddered in release._

_A few seconds later Tony's world went white and exploded as he joined his lover in ecstasy…_

"Hey, dreamy head, the doorbell just rang! Do ya plan to open it or must I go?" Jethro's chiding voice recalled Tony to the present and he smiled bashfully, embarrassed by having been caught daydreaming.

"I'll get it. They must be my friends from California," he answered.

Jethro nodded, winked, and returned to mind the grill as Tony crossed the house to the front door. His smile became a full grin when he saw Cassie and Rick's older but familiar faces look at him from beyond the glass portion of the door.

He swung the door open and embraced Cassie before she was able to say a single word. She had been more of a mother to him than any of his stepmothers, and he would always be grateful for what she did for him all those years ago.

When they separated Tony took both of her hands and said, "Cassie, sweetheart, you look wonderful."

"And you still are a very handsome and convincing liar," she retorted playfully.

"You wound me," Tony replied, putting his left hand over his heart, as he used the right one to greet his other guest, "Hey Rick, good to see you again, man."

"You too, Tony," Rick answered. He was now completely bald, but he looked very well, just like Cassie. They had both aged well.

"Come inside now," he gestured with a hand. "Lunch is almost ready. We were waiting for you."

"Sorry for the delay," Cassie commented as she stepped inside, looking around herself with keen, curious eyes, "but we...I wasn't sure this was the correct place."

Tony laughed at her look and comment. "I get it. You think this house isn't my style...You're right. But you see, its owner, my partner, he is _exactly_ my style, and he didn't have to work very hard to convince me to move in with him. As a matter of fact I was already nodding while he was still at the 'Tony, would you consider to-'..."

Cassie smiled broadly and pulled Tony in her arms for a hug. "I'm so happy for you, kid!" she exclaimed as she patted his back. "I feared for a long time you would never get over your crush for that Marine. I'm so relieved you finally managed to get over him and find love again."

Tony stepped back from her arms and gave Cassie a little grin. _Oh __lady, __you__'__ve __no __idea __of __what __kind __of __surprise __you __are __in __for..._he thought amused. "Come on, I want to introduce you to my man," he said as he started leading them toward the backyard.

As they walked, Cassie stepped near him and commented with a I-told-you-so tone, "I guess you finally got rid of that tattoo, uh? I bet it hurt like hell to have it removed."

Tony didn't answer; for he was too busy biting his lower lip to avoid bursting in laughter.

When they reached the backyard, Tony led his friends to meet his other friends that were now all sitting around the long, sturdy wooden table that had been one of Jethro's first carpenter works.

"The one sitting at the end of the table is Doctor Mallard, but he goes by Ducky. He's NCIS chief Medical Examiner, and has an encyclopedic culture and can go on talking for hours. Near him, there is his faithful assistant, Jimmy Palmer. He still needs to work on his story telling skills, but he is progressing well. At his right, there is NCIS Special Agent Ziva David—don't make her angry, 'cause he used to be a Mossad operative and claims she can kill a man using a paperclip in eighteen different ways. In front of her there are Special Agents Timothy McGee, who moonlights as a novelist, and Stanley Burley, who today will eat only salad, for he's nursing an ulcer he claims has been caused by working with his boss. One would guess he should have an iron stomach by now, since he has been working for the same man for the past twelve years. At last but not least, we've our Mistress of the Dark, Abby Sciuto, NCIS Forensic and Ballistic specialist, another woman you don't want to cross, 'cause she could kill you without leaving any forensic evidence. This is the bunch of people that busted me, but they're now all great friends," Tony completed with more than a little pride.

As he had said to Jethro the evening they first had dinner together, he hadn't had many friends. Despite a line of work that had put him in contact with many, many people, he had been lonely for most of his life, because, ultimately, he had been able to trust only a few people. Cassie, Rick and Holly Snow, the DC Madam that had taken him under wing when he had arrived from California with a broken heart. Now, instead he had several good friends, men and women that had first accepted him in their circle because of Jethro, but now loved him for just himself.

Tony watched as Cassie and Rick shook hands and exchanged introductions with all the persons sitting around the table, and noticed how her eyes kept darting toward Jethro, who was still busy in front of the grill, his back turned toward them. He could see Cassie was dying with the desire to meet his partner, so decided to indulge her—and himself, because he couldn't wait to see her expression when he realized who the man she was staring at was.

"Come," he said, taking her by her arm. "Let's satisfy your curiosity."

As they crossed the backyard toward the grill, Tony asked idly, without looking at her, "Remember I didn't answer to your comment about my tattoo?"

"Yes, I do," Cassie replied, curious.

"I haven't had it removed 'cause my Gunny here wouldn't like if I got rid of it." Tony said as he put an arm on Jethro's back and whispered in his ear, "Look who is here."

Jethro turned around and Tony watched, delighted, as Cassie's mouth opened in a silent, surprised, "Oh".

"Cassie," Tony murmured, wrapping his arm around Jethro's waist. "Let me introduce you former USMC Gunnery Sergeant and NCIS Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

Cassie and Jethro shook hands, and then his lover returned to the grill and whistled loudly, "All right people, the food is ready. Come here with your plates and we'll fill them."

The group sitting at the table rushed toward them, talking, laughing, and arguing who should be served first and act as guinea pig for Jethro's cooking. That, of course, earned them a glare from the cook, but nobody minded it...aside, perhaps, Jimmy Palmer, who smiled nervously.

Since Cassie was already near the grill, Tony filled her plate first and gave it to her with a wink and a cheerful, "_Buon a__ppetito_."

He helped Jethro to fill the others' plates, grinning at their appreciative comments when they tasted his partner's 'steak a la beer'. Then finally, when everybody was served, Jethro and he filled their own plates, and joined the group, sitting close to each other on the bench at the end of the table opposite of Ducky.

As he ate, Tony observed the happy, smiling people around him, his partner and his friends, both old and new, and for the first time in his life he felt completely at peace with himself.

Tony would never repudiate his past, for it had made him meet the love his life, but he was so very glad he no longer was just Gunny's whore, but Jethro's love.

Then Tony shook himself out of that maudlin mood and, as he stood up to propose a toast to the cook, he thought this was really gonna be a wonderful 4th of July.

THE END

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Well, this is the end of my journey in this AU.

I hope you enjoyed the journey...Let me know what you think and let's see if this story can break the 300 reviews barrier! :)

Thanks so much for your support.


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